Rookie
by seinnnnnn
Summary: The Zootopia Hockey League. The greatest athletics association to ever come to life in the city. Of course, the game can't be the only thing that matters; the initial Night Howler scandal left the league in a dilemma, dealing with unruly fans and anti-predator activists. When rookie Ace Wolfburne is the immediate subject of another incident, the league turns to the ZPD for help.
1. I: Elimination Night

**This story is a rewrite of a much older story that I posted over a year ago. It has since been deleted, though I believe that this version is much better. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **I**

 **Elimination Night**

The bus ride home was silent, despite the ongoing stirring outside the open windows. After their surge in the recent weeks, this was not how they figured they'd go out come playoff season. After three weeks of playing like the best team in the league, no one had predicted that they would revert to their midseason slump.

It left the team, to say the least, disappointed—disappointed that they could not extend their fortune past the regular season. After struggling toward the bottom of the league for most of the season, the Royals had finally managed to pull themselves together and somehow squeaked into a playoff spot with just a few games left.

To the outsider who noticed the team's recent surge, it would seem that they would be able to carry their luck at least through the first round of the playoffs, but to their misfortune, it just didn't work out for them. The outsider, however, would not be a fool to believe this; in fact, many organizations believed that they would have to prepare to face a red-hot Royals team in the second or even third round.

But even with a disappointing postseason run to end the season, it would be outlandish to believe that their season as a whole was a letdown. At the turn of the new year, no one would have expected the Royals to even qualify for the playoffs. By that time, panic had settled in for the team, the front office scrambling to resolve the discord in the locker room.

No one on the team knew what sparked the turnaround. Fortunate bounces, pucks somehow finding the back of the net—they weren't sure what to credit, but by the end of the season, they were projected as frontrunners to win the playoffs, despite being a low-tier playoff team.

Rookie center Ace Wolfburne could have counted several situations that, had he played them correctly, would have won them the game. He blamed his over aggression; had he not charged into the offensive zone prematurely, he wouldn't have drawn up a detrimental offside call and possibly could have won the game. It would have forced a deciding fifth game, which would have been at home. He was confident in their ability to win that one, riding on the momentum of a win tonight, but unfortunately, it just wasn't to be.

No one sat next to him on the bus; some offered to do so, but he dismissed them. Paw on his muzzle, he leaned back and watched as life proceeded on the sidewalks of downtown Zootopia.

There was a lot on his mind, including speculation of the next ZHL champion, his plans for the offseason, and the position of the Royals hockey team come late October, when the next season begins.

Sure, their recent surge brought a notable growth for the team, but the disputes from earlier could not go unignored. Perhaps the best option was to find what reinvigorated them halfway through the season, and then try to maintain that. _Yes,_ thought Ace, _that'll do fine for now._

The bus came to a stop for what seemed like the thousandth time. The downtown games, such as their most recent one, were the worst; while it may only take about fifteen minutes to get from their arena in Tundratown to the district border, it could take up to an hour to travel half the distance for downtown games. Even the trips to and from games in Savanna Central, which were on the other side of the city, took less time.

Ace soon grew bored staring at the same sidewalk, so he turned to his phone. The first thing he did was open a calendar and count the days until the next season would begin.

167 days. Perhaps he could bump that number up just a little bit more, since the league has not yet revealed who would be playing that opening night.

The bus finally reached the tunnel to Tundratown and began picking up speed. Ace turned off his phone and decided to wait until they arrived back at their home arena.

Ace yawned and didn't catch himself dozing off until several minutes later. When he did, their destination was already visible. He sat up in his seat and waited as the bus pulled into the parking lot of their home arena.

Once the bus had stopped, everyone filed out like normal and began to carry everything inside, headed toward the home locker room. Ace's load didn't consist of much; just his helmet, gloves, a couple of sticks, gloves, and his skates. Some of the older players had a bit more to carry, especially the team's two goaltenders.

As expected, Coach Buck pulled the team aside for one last discussion before the offseason. It took about a minute for him to find a platform, and he ended up settling for the stairs leading up to the arena entrance.

"Okay. I won't even ask for your personal ratings this time," he said. "I can already tell you guys are feeling dejected right now. All I can really say is… just, incredible work this past month. I owe it all to you guys for the way we finished the regular season."

A murmur of agreement found its way through the crowd.

"The only thing I can ask right now is, who still wants to play, after tonight?"

That specific question seemed to rejuvenate at least a bit of the team's spirit, as a surge of paws and hooves shot straight into the air.

Coach Buck nodded. "Sure you guys do. Until next season, though. We'll be having offseason meetings here Saturday afternoons until August, starting this weekend. Come if you're in town, but we all understand if you're away for a bit. Just make sure we know beforehand. For now, though, we'll break here."

Some of the players turned away immediately and left for home, though most of the team, Ace included, headed inside to put their equipment away.

Ace set his helmet on the bench and leaned his sticks against the wall in his niche of the locker room. The rest of his gear went on the floor.

"Are you going straight home or are you staying for a bit?" asked Felix. The snow leopard also seemed somewhat glum, but he had just finished his third season compared to Ace's first, so he had a little more experience with losing.

"I'm going home," said Ace. "It's almost midnight and we're all tired."

Felix just shrugged. "All right. See you at practice, then?"

Ace headed for the exit. "Sure thing."

It had taken until now for Ace to realize that his first season was over, even though the first-round antics in the other division were still ongoing. As he strolled away from the arena on a spring night in Tundratown, he couldn't help but review his season overall. What were his best—and worst—moments as a rookie?

Surely, his fondest memory was being awarded the Rookie of the Year award at the end of the regular season, but that was an out-of-game moment, only meant to highlight all the happenings of his first season. Perhaps his favorite in-game memory was his lone hat trick that season, or the multiple go-ahead and game-winning goals he was involved in.

As for a worst moment of the season, he could count several blunders made in the midseason slump. If he wanted to, he could even count an error earlier during tonight's game as one of the worse moments of the season.

The area around him was mostly empty, although a few stores, mostly chain restaurants, were still open. There were usually only a few mammals inside a given store this late at night.

Even the subway station wasn't very crowded, save for a few other mammals waiting for different trains. If tonight's game had finished in regulation rather than double overtime, then the station would be a lot more crowded.

Ace considered himself lucky that he at least arrived at the station before it closed for the night. The large cross-district lines were closed by now, but the shorter, more local lines generally remained online for a bit longer. If the local lines were also out for the night, then Ace would have to walk an extra mile just to get home. It's only happened once before, after an overtime game in Savanna Central, but one time was enough to make him hope that they were home on time after every game.

It took three stops to get from Mogul Street to Flurry Street, which was the street closest to where he lived. The general mood of the area remained unchanged, although the stores here were a bit more crowded.

He decided that it wouldn't hurt to grab a quick drink on his way home, so he deviated toward the single café in sight. There was no one else inside aside from a fox and a bunny—unusual to see them around here at this time, especially since he didn't know of any bunnies from Tundratown.

"Just a small hot chocolate without whipped cream, nothing else," said Ace, handing his card to the wolverine at the counter.

"Name?" asked the wolverine.

"Ace."

The wolverine swiped the card and handed it back to Ace as the receipt printed. Once it was finished, he tore it and gave it to Ace, who folded it and stashed it in his pocket.

The wolf took a seat, waiting. For a moment, he was tempted to take a peek at the numerous news articles relating to his team's recent elimination to the Brawlers—the hot-takes—but he decided to hold off until the more serious discussions begin.

The bunny picked up her phone from the table. "Hello?" she said.

Ace tried not to eavesdrop, but it's difficult to avoid listening when no one else in the building is talking. He probably wouldn't be able to make a conversation out of it anyway, since he couldn't even hear what the caller was saying.

"Tundratown," she said before another pause. "Oh. Uh… okay. You want us at Crevasse, then?"

"Ace," the wolverine called out.

Ace stood up and walked to the counter, taking his hot cocoa. "Goodnight," said the wolverine.

"Goodnight," said Ace as he turned toward the exit.

The moment he stepped outside, however, something—Ace didn't see what it was—charged straight into his side, knocking him winded. Having not expected anything, Ace's phone flew right out of his paw and onto the snow.

Ace didn't know what had hit him, even after he was given a moment to clear his head of what had just happened. His drink had also fallen from his paw, several drops spilling onto his face and jersey, though most of it just ended up on the snow.

Something locked around his right leg, so Ace began to struggle out of instinct. His shin stung as he kicked and twisted in his attempt to break free, but whatever had a grip on him was not relenting.

His initial response was to struggle more, even though all it did was make his leg feel worse. The grip on his leg—it felt somewhat like teeth sinking through his jeans—only seemed to tighten as he writhed about. He could feel as the row of pointy objects sunk further into his skin. Whatever was holding it began to move, and his body left a trail in the snow.

Ace attempted to find something to grab onto, to prevent him from moving, but found nothing as the nearest light pole was already far out of arm's reach. There was the option to dig into the snow and try to hold on that way, but that wouldn't last him more than a few seconds.

Soon, though, he passed by a stop sign, for which he stretched out and luckily grabbed a hold of.

Or maybe it was unlucky. He gritted his teeth as his leg stretched out. He attempted to get a view of his attacker, and it shocked him to find that the attacker was a jaguar, walking on all fours. That was when he realized that those weren't teeth-like objects; they were _literally_ teeth!

Looking back, he found that the fox and bunny had followed him outside. Perhaps it was because he was attacked the immediate moment he stepped out, so they were able to see him through the window. But what could they do to a jaguar, being only half their size?

Ace took note of that and turned his attention back to his adversary. He couldn't pay attention to how much his leg burned right now; he would have to address that later, once he's out of this situation.

The wolf nudged his leg a little bit to the right, in an attempt to reposition his leg in the jaguar's mouth so it wouldn't hurt as much. It was a move he regretted instantly, as it only amplified the discomfort in his leg. The rubbing of skin and fur against teeth in the snow caused his leg to go numb. Although he had just attempted to ignore the pain, it became so severe that it demanded his attention. It could not be ignored, and Ace winced before he began kicking with his free foot.

It took him a while, but soon he managed to land a clean kick with his left leg, straight to the jaguar's maw. The kick didn't stun it for long, but it was enough to free his other leg from its teeth. He could barely feel the teeth sliding off his leg as the jaguar loosened its grip.

Suddenly he wished he had something with him—his helmet, a stick, anything he could use to fend off the jaguar for just a bit longer.

But he had nothing, and his leg put him in no condition to fight, so his only choice was to try to drag himself away. The café was still visible and, to his luck, it was the nearest open building. The fox and the bunny had almost reached him. He didn't know which to try to reach.

On one side, the fox and the bunny were easier to get behind, but given their size, he doubted they would be able to fend off a jaguar by themselves. On the other, he trusted a building more than two smaller mammals to protect him, but it would be much more difficult to reach, especially in the condition his right leg was in.

It didn't matter, however. He tried to hobble toward the two other mammals, dragging his right leg in the snow. He got no further than a meter past the stop sign before the jaguar caught up. He heard something snap, as—despite the numbness in his leg—an even greater agony in his leg arose, worse than anything he had experienced before.

He howled as his leg swung forward, and he landed on the snow flat on his back. Another noise emerged, sounding like the clanking of metal hitting metal, and then another, this one sounding like multiple sirens.

There was a click, and then multiple grunts and growls, but Ace couldn't tell what was going on. The lack of feeling in his leg clouded his mind—he could see and hear everything, but he couldn't put the sounds together.

It took him a while to realize that the jaguar was not tearing him apart. The sirens grew louder, and there was another click along with the sound of chains. Has a savior arrived?

Ace rolled over and gritted his teeth before trying to get up again, but his right leg crumpled the moment he attempted to put any weight on it. As the sirens approached, the sound of engines reached his ears. He collapsed again.

Breathing heavily, he shook his head. _Help...?_

* * *

Once the squad had arrived, the target had already been incapacitated. For the ZPD, it was a lucky coincidence that two of their officers happened to be waiting in the path of one of their targets. While it was certainly questionable as to why they were off-duty at a Tundratown café near midnight, that didn't matter to them; what mattered was that they had detained one of the targets for that night.

While the streetlights caught the spilled drink immediately outside the café, the police required flashlights to get a good view of the more important parts of the attack. There was the savage jaguar, still thrashing about around the stop sign, leg cuffed to the pole, and then there was a trail of blood leading to the injured wolf. He was still conscious, but it was clear that he couldn't walk. Nick winced upon seeing how awkwardly the wolf's leg was bent.

It was midnight once the ambulance arrived. They were quick to act, carrying the wolf away on a stretcher. Nick informed them of the cause of injury, and then they left, bound for the nearest hospital.

"No, I didn't know until Clawhauser gave me a call," said Judy. "Then it sort of just happened outside, and we didn't notice it until the jaguar already had him."

"How many reports of savage mammals have we gotten tonight?" asked Nick.

"Too many," said Bogo. "And we can't tell if some of them are about the same mammal or not, but we do know for sure that there's been more than one."

"But it really just came out of nowhere, right? Like, what, half an hour ago?" continued Nick. "Was there any sort of forewarning, or something?"

"Not that we know of. But there's going to be a lot of investigating around these sites."

"And what of the wolf?" Judy finally asked.

"We don't know who he is, at least not yet. We'll know once you check in tomorrow. Just go home for now. I've still got a mess to deal with north of here."


	2. II: Aftermath

**Here's Chapter 2! Enjoy!**

 **Special thanks to YFWE for beta reading.**

* * *

 **II**

 **Aftermath**

The news of Ace's postgame incident did not reach any important ears until Wednesday morning. Many of the mammals who regularly followed the league's activity awoke to the headline of 'Royals Rookie Suffers Injury Hours After Elimination' or something of the like. While the team's elimination just before the event helped to mitigate the oncoming chaos, it didn't stop the story from becoming one of the top headlines for the day, since there were no games scheduled.

Upon hearing the news, league staff members and players were furious. A good fraction of the players, especially the ones whose teams were still in the playoff race, feared that the league may take extreme action as a response to the attack.

That morning, some of the officials, coaches, managers, and owners were invited to the ZHL headquarters in Tundratown for an impromptu meeting to discuss the course of the league in the coming weeks.

"We can't do it. The guys on the outside don't want it," argued Gerard Pine, the wolf coach of the Meadowlands-based Cavaliers. "We already denied everyone a playoffs past the first round last year. To cancel it again after just one Night Howler attack that affects a single player is a betrayal to both the fans and the players."

While many of the present mammals were tired of sitting through this heated discussion, some of them persisted; they were not afraid to challenge Pine's argument. "If these attacks continue, then what do you do?" asked Royals owner Theo Judson, a leopard. "Maybe it's easy for you to say that we should continue, but Tuesday night is a case concerning my players and their wellbeing. Wolfburne was attacked on his commute between his arena and his home. If our players can't walk a few blocks without the risk of an incident, then clearly something needs to change in terms of how we're handling the safety of our players."

There was silence for a few seconds. It was a matter between siding with the league and siding with the players. Cancelling the playoffs would serve the league, as it would not have to take any risks regarding another Night Howlers scandal. But doing so would put the league at risk, considering the possible backlash from players and fans.

A polar bear, league commissioner Kit Marbury, spoke up. "Alex, have you spoken with Wolfburne yet?"

Alexander Buck shook his head. "I reckon he isn't doing that great, though," he said. "From what they're saying, I'm not exactly sure if he'll be good to start next season. But from what I know about him after spending an entire season with him, he would have said no."

"It's only one attack," added Rick Roscoe, raccoon owner of the Downtown-based Rangers. "Last year it took almost 10 of them until we decided it was enough. I say we should continue and then act accordingly."

"Yes, but none of last year's attacks resulted in long-term injury. Now, first incident in an entire year, and a rookie almost loses his leg!" said Judson.

"That's enough," interrupted Marbury. "If it makes you happy, Theo, then we can monitor the players more closely if we end up voting to continue. If anyone has any other ideas, pitch in now."

Silence. Although it was obvious that a few of them wished to continue arguing, especially Judson and Pine, they kept their mouths shut.

"All right, then," said Marbury. "Just cast your vote before you leave. We'll meet here again after the first round is over to discuss where we're going, based off how this ends up."

* * *

At roll call Wednesday morning, Bogo gave Judy and Nick the information as promised. There were the profiles of every mammal who was directly affected by Tuesday night's Night Howler attack; each one came with a photo, the species, name, occupation, height, weight, and any additional information. For most of them, the last box specified two things: whether they were a savage or a target of a savage, and where they were found.

Judy's first instinct was to compare those involved in this attack with those involved in last year's case. When Judy came across a reindeer on the list of savages, however, it became apparent that her initial thoughts were incorrect.

One of the victim profiles was of the wolf they saw that night. Nick held it up and exchanged glances with Judy before opening it.

"Ace Wolfburne, 20 years old, hockey player living on Flurry Street in Tundratown. Five-and-a-half-feet tall," said Nick. "This is really our guy?"

Judy sorted through the profiles of the ones who had gone savage last night in Tundratown. She singled out the two jaguars in the pile, attempting to match the wolf with his attacker from last night.

Based on location found, she managed to find the savage mammal: a male jaguar. His name was Tom Pavar, a 31-year-old truck driver residing in the lower Rainforest District. Why he was in Tundratown at the time was unimportant, though Nick could infer why, based on his occupation.

"Yes. There's our match," said Judy.

Bogo had sent a different squad to investigate at the sites in Tundratown. Judy's goal was to find any connections between Wolfburne, Pavar, and the culprit, even if the two victims had gotten involved by pure coincidence.

She wondered if Wolfburne's involvement and subsequent injury had been planned—meaning he was a target—or if it was just a side effect of a grander scheme. While she leaned toward the latter just because of how far the exchange was from the main attack scene, she didn't rule out the possibility that he was a target.

"Thing is, it's only been, what, ten hours since the attack," said Nick. "We won't be able to contact _any_ of the victims from last night. Not for a while; hopefully later today, if we're lucky."

"So you're saying we should wait?"

Nick shrugged. "I guess so."

* * *

Ace thought of nothing as he stared at the white ceiling in the room. He couldn't do anything, of course. His right leg was immobile, and his left wasn't feeling too great either, although he could somewhat move it within the little amount of space it had.

He huffed, and someone came knocking at the door. Normally, he would get up himself to answer it, but that wasn't possible.

It opened before he could respond, and in the doorway stood Coach Buck. It was a pleasant surprise to see a familiar face after an entire night of being cared for by strangers. The attendant pushed a button next to the bed, allowing Ace to sit up.

Neither of them knew exactly how to start. Ace was staring at his current coach after sustaining an elimination and an injury within less than two hours' worth of time.

Buck, on the other side, had really only needed to address his rookie during practices and games, and only to bring up a point about Ace's play. He had predicted Ace's position based on those conversations.

Coach Buck took a seat after a few seconds of silence. "May we have a moment?" he asked the attendant, and she exited the room.

It was quiet for a bit longer before Buck spoke again. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," said Ace. He didn't know how else to answer the question, nor why his coach even asked it in the first place. "X-ray photos are over there." He pointed at a mess of laminated papers sitting face down on the desk next to his coach.

Buck picked up the papers. "I see," he said. "I've had to deal with a lot of player injuries in my career. This isn't the worst thing I've ever seen."

"What's the news saying about me?"

"Never mind the news."

"Just tell me."

Buck sighed. "Well, in my opinion, they've gone a bit off the deep end freaking out over all this. The league called a meeting to see if we wanted to call off the rest of the tournament."

The last sentence alarmed Ace. "Did they do it?"

"I don't know. But I voted no on your behalf."

"Hopefully the others did too."

"Not our owner. He cares too much to keep this tournament going. It's not that his reasoning is flawed, it's just that it's not what you guys want. You guys, the players."

Ace did the best impression of a shrug that he could do within the confines of the bed. It turned out to be nothing more than a very slight movement of the shoulders; anyone who wasn't watching closely wouldn't have noticed.

He wished he had more space to move around, although he saw why he couldn't. If he tried to adjust his position on the bed, then there was a chance that he could disrupt something in his leg, which would result in greater pain and a longer hospital stay. As much as he wanted to try adjusting himself, he didn't.

"Well, at least it's the offseason," said Ace.

"For us," added Buck.

"You don't suppose this is…" Ace gulped, "possibly career-ending, do you?"

"What?" Hearing the question shocked Buck. "Oh, no, no, no, no. I told you, I've coached players who suffered injuries worse than this before, and they were up and running within a few months. I think that this could only be career ending if, and hear me out, if something just goes horribly wrong in recovery."

Ace didn't know how to feel about his coach's response. It wasn't exactly a question he wanted to ask on his first day, but he felt it was necessary. Now that he knew he would be able to play again, he was eager to get through the offseason, but also nervous about the slim chance that he might not fully recover.

"What about the other things? Surgery, therapy, all that fun stuff?"

"Now, that's not my question to answer," said Buck. "Ask the doc if it really concerns you."

Ace nodded. It was one of the few gestures he could make, since his head wasn't as restrained as the rest of his body.

"Just stay strong. You'll make it through this and you'll be back on the ice in no time, if that's what you want." Buck checked his phone for the time—it was almost an hour past noon. "But I'd best be going now. Sorry I had to make it so brief, but I'll try to stay longer if I could in the future."

The wolf sighed. "Okay."

* * *

Bogo had decided to keep the duo preoccupied by sending them to patrol around south Tundratown, where the attacks occurred. They remained there for several hours, coming upon the crime scene on Crevasse Street once.

It was a square between two roads, containing several benches and a tree in the middle. Five-story buildings suited for large mammals surrounded the area. After observing the crime scene for a few seconds, Nick noticed a blood splatter on one of the benches; a fight must have broken out as a result of a mammal's savagery.

But it wasn't their area to investigate. As Bogo had told them, a crew had already been dispatched to collect evidence on the site. That would explain why there was nothing interesting to find on the crime scene—everything had already been taken, and further analysis of the evidence was already underway.

The next hour was mostly uneventful. Both of them were aware that they were just waiting for the opportunity to reach one of the two victims they saw last night.

They came to the café on Flurry Street where Pavar assaulted Wolfburne, but found nothing of importance. The place was open, so any traces either they or Wolfburne might have left had been cleaned out. A small section outside was marked with tape, from the exit to the pole Judy used to cuff the jaguar.

They already knew that this wasn't where it had started, but they had been informed that this was the farthest from the attack point any of the savage mammals had gone.

Nothing was happening; perhaps it was time to move back toward the crime scene, so that no one could stir up any trouble over there. There, they planned, they would wait until Clawhauser would call them back.

So they waited back at the square. It became dull very quickly; Nick was easily distracted, spending most of the time looking for ways to entertain himself. "So, I figure that the wolf is being held less than a couple miles from here," he said.

"Has to be," said Judy. "How badly did that jaguar hurt him?"

Nick answered curtly. "Bad."

"Terrible bad, or just bad?"

"Look-away-if-you're-squeamish type bad. Did you see how he went down that second time?"

Judy shot him a glance, understanding what he meant. "Oh." She didn't think that Pavar had hurt him that badly; she thought the normal treatment from the bites was all that he would need. "I didn't see him. I was too busy holding down the jaguar."

Judy secretly hoped that they would be able to speak with Wolfburne first, since he was the one on the receiving end of the attack. When the call from Clawhauser came in, however, he stated that Pavar had been released after receiving the Night Howler antidote.

Figuring that they wouldn't be able to reach the wolf for a bit longer, they settled with what they had. Perhaps there was something he knew or saw that could lead them in the right direction.

The front of Pavar's residence was dark, even in the afternoon. Because he resided in the lower Rainforest District, little light managed to sift through the leaves, branches, and paths situated at higher levels of the district.

They knocked twice before the door opened. A jaguar stood there, breathing heavily and looking around for the one who knocked. It took a few seconds until he looked down to find the two smaller cops standing in front of him.

"I'm Officer Judy Hopps, and this is Officer Nick Wilde," said Judy, introducing herself and Nick. She had waited for the jaguar to spot them before she started speaking. "Are you Tom Pavar?"

"Yes," he answered. He seemed terrified, immediately backing off into his house with his paws raised defensively. He leaned against the open door, so as to be ready to close it whenever he needed. "What's this about?" he asked, his voice shaking. "What do you want?"

"Just some answers," said Nick. "I can tell you're not feeling so great about us being here, so I think it serves us both if you answer our questions so we can leave faster."

"No, no, that's not it," said the jaguar in an attempt to be courteous. "It's just… last night—"

Nick cut him off. "We know, we know. We were there."

The jaguar's eyes widened. "So… so you saw me? What I did? I didn't mean to—"

"We know," said Nick again, cutting him off for a second time. "May we come in, or you can step out for a moment?"

Pavar didn't speak for a few seconds. It was clear that he was still frightened, although no one could be certain as to what frightened him. Was he afraid of being detained, even though Nick had already established that he was not at fault? Was he afraid of getting involved with the case, fearing that his involvement would drive someone to target him?

He finally let his voice slide. "Okay," he croaked, stepping outside his house.

He shut the door behind himself. "I'm sorry," he said, having had a chance to calm down a little. "I usually don't interact with your type."

"Occupation or size?" asked Nick.

"The first."

Nick scoffed. "But uh… what did they tell you about last night?"

"That I just went savage and I hurt someone bad," said Pavar. "I couldn't believe them. Mammals don't go savage these days, save for last year. Didn't figure out it was the same thing as last year until I read the news. I read the name 'Wolfburne,' and then I knew they weren't lying."

"So you know who you hurt," said Judy.

Pavar nodded, somewhat nervously. "Wonder what he's thinking," he said, looking down. "I could have been the death of him."

"We'll get to him later and tell him you're sorry," said Nick. "But what about what happened before that? I'm assuming you don't remember attacking him, right?"

"Nothing."

"So what do you remember from last night, up until you were hit?"

"I was hauling stuff," explained Pavar. "Unloading boxes before I called it for the night, and then I heard some commotion in the square and… well, I looked and saw a fight broke out between two bears after it was quiet for a long time. Don't know exactly when I was hit, or anything after that."

"Did you see anything else?"

He shook his head. "From where I was standing, I couldn't really see the square that well. I was able to peek out for maybe three or four seconds, and when I saw one of them about to take a swing at the other, that's where my mind goes blank."

"What about the others around you?"

"Well, there was a fox on the site. Rufus Vaughn; we work for the same delivery company. I doubt he was targeted."

Judy and Nick exchanged glances. "Was there a Rufus Vaughn on the list this morning?" inquired Judy.

"No," said Nick, trying to map out the possibilities. He was a candidate for the list of suspects, since his name was not among those present when Bogo gave them the files. But it was also possible that he had just fled the scene sometime after the fight broke out, or he had taken shelter somewhere and left once the savages had dispersed. Either way, he was a witness, and that was the important part for now.

"Anything more?" asked Pavar.

Judy looked up at him. "No, that's all we need for now. Thank you for your time."

They parted from there. Pavar retreated back into the confines of his home with his head down, while Judy and Nick turned and headed back toward the car.

"Was that helpful or was that helpful?" asked Nick.

"Very," said Judy. "That was a lot more than I was expecting to get out of him, but I guess we'll take it."

"I'm not sure how fond I'm going to be of this Rufus Vaughn guy." Nick flicked a fallen leaf off his uniform. "Eh, we'll see."

"Well, at least we know of a witness we can reach," said Judy. "Tundratown or headquarters?"

Their seatbelts clicked, followed by the low rumble of the car engine as Judy started the car. A steady blast of cool air ruffled Nick's fur as he turned the dial to adjust the climate inside the vehicle. "I don't know, you're driving." He leaned back and threatened to place his legs on the dashboard, but lowered them after a sharp glare from Judy.

"Tundratown it is, then!" said Judy.

Nick scoffed, shaking his head. "Of course you would," he muttered.


	3. III: Vaughn

**Here's chapter 3! It's a bit longer than the other two, as there's a lot to cover in this chapter.**

 **Thanks again to YFWE for beta reading.**

* * *

 **III**

 **Vaughn**

Judy and Nick weren't sure if Rufus Vaughn would be working on Wednesday, since he and Pavar were both working around midnight the night before. Evening was nearing when they reached the site on Crevasse Street; some of the streetlamps were already turned on.

This time, they noted the truck on the road, the only vehicle present on the scene. The compartment was open, lining up with Pavar's assertion that he was unloading the truck when he was shot.

On the side of the compartment was the logo of Aardvark Delivery, the company Pavar likely worked for. The logo consisted of two bright green arrows arcing over and under a large wall, surrounding the word 'Aardvark,' also printed in bright green. The top arrow pointed from right to left, while the bottom arrow pointed from left to right. The wall, which also doubled as the stem of the 'd' in 'Aardvark,' was presumably the climate wall that separated Sahara Square and Tundratown, since the characters to the left were topped with sand, while a layer of snow rested on the characters to the right.

Nick peered into the compartment, scanning through it in case the crew missed anything inside during their search of the crime scene that morning. Inside were three cardboard boxes—the labels on the stickers meant nothing to him, as they contained nothing but a series of seemingly random numbers, along with an address, which likely stated the destination.

"I don't know if we need those," said Nick. "We can open them if you'd like, if you think what's inside might be important."

Judy declined. "It's probably best we leave the scene uninterrupted until further notice," she explained. "I believe that it's safe to say Mr. Pavar worked for Aardvark Delivery. That would mean our other fox also works for this company."

"Both of them were using this one truck last night," mentioned Nick. "I'm not sure where Rufus could have gone without it."

"He can run," suggested Judy.

Nick shrugged. "Eh."

If the name and logo of the company didn't already give it away, it took Judy no more than thirty seconds of internet searches to learn that Aardvark Delivery was a company headquartered in Sahara Square. Upon further research, however, Judy discovered that the company also hosted two warehouses outside its host district: one in west Savanna Central, and one in east Tundratown.

The Tundratown warehouse looked promising. Perhaps they could start their search there, and if he didn't show up, then they could continue their search in the morning. Judy ran one last time around the truck, jotting down the license plate number, and then they were off to the warehouse.

Night had already fallen when they reached the building. The multitude of vehicles with the Aardvark Delivery logo emblazoned on their sides helped to confirm their location.

Judy had almost missed it; the lack of adequate lighting in the parking lot made it difficult for her to spot the logo, even though the print was so large. She even suspected that this might be a prime location for criminal activity at night, with the lack of streetlights and the warehouse, which was undoubtedly filled with valuables.

She chose a parking spot that was directly under a lamp, for the sake of reducing the chances of any unexpected criminal activity around the area. Surely, the visibility of a police cruiser would help to deter any mammals looking to brew trouble.

A fox trotted out of the building, wearing a black polo shirt that bore only the arrow in the logo. He carried a smoothie in one paw, swinging a set of keys in the other.

Nick and Judy suspected that he must be the one. They exchanged glances and then went to approach him.

He noticed the cop duo well before they reached him. Upon seeing the two in police uniform, he froze momentarily but then continued on his way.

Judy reached him by the time he was at his car. "Hello," she greeted, approaching the fox. "Your name is Rufus Vaughn, correct? Tom told us about you."

The fox nodded and leaned to the left, closely observing Nick. "I didn't know they hired foxes now," he muttered.

"Less than a year on the job," said Nick, having barely heard the other fox's remark.

Rufus chuckled. "And Tom's okay? How's he been doing?"

"He's afraid of coming out of his house now."

Rufus remained seemingly laid back. "Eh, he'll pull through."

Someone else left the warehouse; a dhole, also wearing the same black polo shirt with the Aardvark logo. It was strange to see a dhole in Tundratown; ideally, she would be working at the warehouse in Savanna Central.

"Hey, Rufus!" she called out once she was close enough. "Not running into legal issues, are you? You know, Mr. Myrdal won't be too happy if you get in trouble with the police."

Rufus closed his eyes and sighed, seeming somewhat exasperated. "Excuse me for a moment," he said to the cops before turning around to address the dhole.

"No, everything's fine," he hollered back,. "They just want to know about Tom. Go home. I need to finish this!"

He turned his attention back to Judy and Nick. "Don't mind her," he said, pointing back in the direction of the dhole. "Anyway, go on." He leaned back against his car, his arms crossed.

A few seconds of silence passed before either of them spoke. "Tom told us you two were together last night when the attack happened, right?" continued Judy. She stood with a notepad and a pen, prepared to jot down anything important that the fox may bring attention to.

Rufus nodded again and set his smoothie on top of his car. "Yep. We work together most of the time. I haven't had much to do today without him, since I can't haul boxes by myself."

"Then describe last night's attack from your view. What you did, what you were thinking, and anything interesting you might have seen when it was going on."

"Oh, well, it did get scary at times," said Rufus. "I was sitting in the back of the truck while Tom was hauling the packages for our last delivery of the night. He came down to get the last few boxes, and that's about when the whole thing started. I didn't see him get shot, but I did hear him going wild."

"So what had you scared?" asked Nick.

"Oh, basically everything. I saw a fight between two bears, and I saw one get literally knocked out in one swipe." He used his paws to help them visualize the act, allowing one to go limp on the hood of his car. "I didn't want to become a target. I didn't exactly know they were Night Howlers until I read the news this morning, but what also had me afraid was that everyone else around me was going crazy. If they were getting it, then I could too, so I just pulled the doors shut and waited, so no one would get to me."

"What about Tom?"

Rufus paused for a few seconds, then continued. "I didn't see him after watching the fight go down. I just waited for all the noise to go away, and then when I thought it was safe to go, I bailed. Didn't look back for anyone, though I might have seen one mammal that wasn't Tom clawing at a door. I actually haven't heard from him since last night, so it is nice to know he's doing fine today."

It was clear to the officers that the fox's nonchalance did not line up with the way he had described everything from Tuesday night. It had been less than 24 hours, and it only seemed like he half-cared about his coworker.

"You seem awfully casual about… well, everything, really," observed Nick. "It's just that you'd normally expect someone to be a bit more unstable after seeing his friend get shot the previous night."

Rufus opened the door to his car and picked up his smoothie. "I get around. I've seen a lot."

Nick shrugged. "I can relate to that."

"Anyway, are we done?" Rufus rolled down the window and dropped his keys on the seat.

"No," interrupted Judy. "I still have something to ask."

Rufus yawned and closed the door to his car. "Okay. Fire away, then. Whatever you need to know."

"This question is a bit of a long shot, but do you have any connection to Ace Wolfburne or the Royals hockey organization?" asked Judy.

"Don't know much about them. I know he got hurt last night and that his team was knocked out, but I'm not really a fan of the Royals. I'm a Legends fan, but they don't have to play the first round, so I haven't been been watching much hockey," explained Rufus. "Huh. North Stars and Cascades are facing off right now…"

"Stay on topic," Judy snapped.

"Right. I've made a couple of deliveries to the Royals' arena, but that's the extent of my connection to that team. Last one was… what, maybe in January. It was mostly just merchandise. Nothing really weird."

"Okay," said Judy, having grown tired of the fox's tendency to run off the topic at hand. "I think that's enough. Thank you for your time, Mr. Vaughn."

He opened the door again and this time took a seat in his car, starting the engine. "No biggie," he replied over the low humming.

They waited for Rufus to pull out of his parking spot before going themselves.

"That guy could probably go on and on and on, if you give him that chance," said Nick as they strolled back to their car. "Now, question is, are _we_ done for tonight?"

"Fine," said Judy. "We've already gotten so much done today. I'll take us back to headquarters."

They were out of the parking lot when another mammal exited the building. Nick could not tell what species he or she was—he could only see movement at the front of the warehouse. But that didn't matter, since the chance of any significant connection to the case was unlikely.

Nick yawned; Judy was correct in presuming that it was a long day. In less than 24 hours since the incident, they had already gathered details on how the attack went down, in synthesizing the views of two mammals who were on the site at the time of the attack.

But he also knew that it wasn't complete. They weren't sure where they would go tomorrow; perhaps, if it fit inside their time window, they could revisit Tom or Rufus. While there certainly wasn't enough discovered to lead them to a culprit, it was progress.

* * *

Kit Marbury didn't want anyone to see him enter. He scanned the area around him on the off-chance that a media reporter or someone who recognized him just happened to be passing by. He could never be too careful—if he needed to, he would check a hundred times before entering.

Nobody around him was wearing or carrying anything that signified to him that they were a reporter. He noted the provincial business of Savanna Central continuing just on the other side of the street, and he briefly wished that he could be there.

That wasn't going to happen, though—he made a promise, and failing to come through with it could jeopardize his business. The consequences if he didn't fulfill his side of the promise, would be detrimental not only to him, but also to hundreds of other mammals.

A door flew open, forcing him to jump to the side so the glass would not slam into him. A rhino wearing a ZPD uniform stepped out of the building, glanced at Marbury for a split second, and then continued toward the parking lot.

For a second, Marbury considered turning back. The sharp glare from the rhino left him disconcerted—was that rhino irate, or was that just how they always looked? He didn't know, nor did he want to find out.

He slipped into the building through the revolving doors. At the front desk, he found a fat cheetah indulging on a box of donuts, the emblem of the ZPD emblazoned on the pillar behind him. The nametag on his uniform read 'CLAWHAUSER.' He grimaced; this was who they put in this position?

"I requested a meeting with the chief," he said before Clawhauser could even see him.

Clawhauser's tail dropped. "Uh… name?" he asked.

"Kit Marbury."

Clawhauser turned to the phone. "Chief, I have Kit Marbury down here who says he requested a meeting with you," he said. "Is that right?"

The chief's flat voice returned through the speaker. "Send him up."

The response was immediate. Marbury thought that the chief would be busy then, and that he would have to wait for several awkward moments before a response. He shrugged when Clawhauser gave him a strange look.

"Okay, I guess. Third floor, Chief Bogo," said Clawhauser. "It's all the way down."

Marbury nodded and climbed the stairs up to the chief's office. It was the room farthest from the stairs, from which he was able to peer over the railing and observe all the activity in the foyer. There was nothing particularly interesting to see down there, aside from a polar bear cop escorting a muzzled tiger.

He turned to the door, seeing the words 'CHIEF BOGO' neatly printed in gold letters on the frosted glass. Sighing, he tapped the glass lightly, just light enough that it would have to be silent inside the room for anyone to hear it. He was visibly shaking; he knew what the chief was like, but he was more afraid of denial than the actual upcoming talk.

The doorknob clicked, and in the doorway stood the water buffalo, chief of police, standing about half a foot taller than Marbury. Size didn't do much in the way of unsettling the league commissioner; he already had experience in dealing with players who were much larger than the chief. Rather, what daunted him was the fact that he was standing one-on-one with the chief of police.

"Ah yes, come in," said the chief. "This had better be good."

Marbury stepped inside, seeing the single chair set in front of Bogo's desk. His main objective, outside of getting his point across, was to avoid angering the chief.

The polar bear sat down, and Bogo took the seat across from the desk, where several papers had been torn apart.

"So," started Bogo, "what seems to concern you?"

Marbury sighed and began speaking. "Well, with all the fuss going around the league about the attacks two nights ago…" he trailed off, believing for a moment that Bogo was not listening.

The chief adjusted his glasses and continued scribbling on one of the papers. "Yes, I'm well aware of Wolfburne's current state."

A pause. Marbury wasn't sure if it was his turn to talk; in fact, he hadn't expected Bogo to speak when he did.

"Uh… yeah. Well, the guys voted to run the league through to the end of the playoffs, but I've got a few on my back who are just paranoid about the players' safety."

The chief looked up at Marbury before setting most of his attention back to the paperwork. "And?"

"I'm speaking here because of their request. They want more security in the upcoming games. In and around arenas—two hours before and after each game, to quote them exactly as they put it," said Marbury.

Bogo stopped scribbling and set the pen down on the desk. He looked back up at Marbury and took off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on the desk. He leaned forward, and despite the distance the desk put between him and the polar bear, Marbury still felt that he was encroaching on his space.

"Tell me again, how many teams are in your league?" asked Bogo.

Marbury hesitated before answering. "14."

"And the first round concluded just yesterday; how many games are left to be played in this season?"

It took several seconds for Marbury to do the math. With eight teams remaining, that meant three more rounds, giving a total of seven matchups. Best four games out of seven for each matchup.

"At least 28, at most 49," said Marbury.

"Two more questions. How long is it until the end of your tournament?"

"Six weeks."

"And how many games, on a given night, are happening at the same time?"

Marbury gulped. "Two."

Bogo stood up and placed the paperwork in a folder, which he stashed in a bookshelf. "14 teams. It's not the regular season—you know that—but that's 14 arenas you have to keep secure through a period of around six or seven months every year."

"But they're all active at different times," mentioned Marbury.

"It doesn't matter." The chief seated himself and leaned back, giving Marbury some room to breathe. "I think you're already well-equipped enough to take on this matter by yourself. You just need to know how to run your league."

Marbury was puzzled; what did the chief mean? Surely he was adequate to run the league himself. Since he took over, the conflict within the league had hit a low point, so what was it that the chief saw?

"What do you mean?" inquired Marbury. "I've been in this post for—"

"Yes, five years. But I'm afraid you've had it easy during your tenure."

The polar bear shrugged. "Maybe," he said, "but I think, even with that, I can hold the league together just fine."

"Well, if you can run your league just fine, then why did you come to me in the first place?"

Marbury didn't know how to respond. Bogo had caught him in the wrong somewhere, but he wasn't sure where he messed up. Was the problem with his ability to run the league, or was it with the fact that he needed help?

He had to admit that the chief was right. If he _could_ handle the league's troubles on his own, then he wouldn't have come in the first place.

For safety, he assumed the problem was in how he was running the league. "Okay," he said, "maybe I can't."

"No, no, you said you can. Be on your way if you must." Bogo reached for the phone and picked it up, as if he were ready to move to whatever was next in his work.

"But…" Marbury sighed. "I really can't. Sincere, this time."

Bogo nodded and set the phone back down. "Well, then, you fessed up, although somewhat unconvincingly. If last year told us anything, it's that your administration of the league could be potentially disastrous if something like that happens again. If that's why you came to me, then that's good. Although I do know you came to me to request more officers."

Marbury shrugged. Now that he thought of it, last year's suspension of the tournament was much more hectic than it should have been. Although it was probably the best thing to do in the long run, the road they took that led to that decision was chaotic. It took two weeks of arguing back and forth along with endless complaints from the owners and coaches to finally shut down the league for the postseason.

He remembered that Theo Judson's speeches were especially annoying to listen to. At one point, during a meeting in early April just before the tournament began, Marbury had completely zoned out while listening to Judson's address on player safety and how canceling the league and ordering the players to stay home until the trouble subsided would help to minimize the danger the Night Howler scandal posed against the league.

Everything had been laid out for Judson to advocate for the cancellation of the tournament, from the Night Howler attacks to the growing distrust among the players to even the disorder surrounding the managers and owners. Judson had essentially taken control of the league for six weeks, while Marbury did nothing but adhere to every move for which the Royals owner called.

But as much as it displeased him to know that he wasn't controlling his league, he knew that it worked perfectly. Given that, then maybe Judson was right about this year's incident. Maybe the best option was to just shut down right then, disregarding the fact that the teams, this time, had voted in favor of finishing the tournament.

That, however, would be detrimental to his public image. There was no way he would be able to administer a league like the ZHL if everyone—the players and the fans, mostly—hated him.

They had voted to continue. That news had already been released, so there was no way he could reverse it now.

"First off," Bogo began, "consider the position in the hierarchy that you currently hold. Last I checked, it's chief executive officer, but you haven't been acting like one. Not like the ones that came before, the ones who were tested more than you."

"I figure you have some experience in a similar position, Chief."

It was a valid point to bring up, and Marbury had done so hoping that their similar positions within their respective organizations could help them to connect with each other.

"Oh, sure, I do. I'd tell you what I've learned from being chief, but the ZPD and the ZHL are different entities. I don't mean any offense, but the ZPD is a necessity. The ZHL is an entertainment source. Put simply, the city can survive without the ZHL. Wouldn't be such a happy place for some mammals, but the city can survive without the ZHL."

"True," admitted Marbury. "So they run differently because of their differing roles in the city's well-being."

"You can put it like that. Still, my point stands. Overall, I think you just need to learn to control your league. You have so much more in terms of resources than your predecessors had," said Bogo. "The league's not as authoritative as the ZPD, but by no means can you become a figurehead."

"So you think I should have let the tournament continue, or not?"

"That's up for your judgment," said Bogo. "But if you do go through with their decision, then I'll help you. I won't give you any more officers, but I have designated two of mine to investigate Wolfburne's side of the case. Thought you ought to know that I'm not ignoring him. He is among the list of victims, after all."

Given the general atmosphere of the conversation, Marbury was not disappointed that Bogo wasn't going to grant his original request. However, it was a pleasant surprise when he heard that the chief was going to help in a different way, and it was a bonus to learn that the police were not disregarding Wolfburne.

"Thank you, Chief."

The league commissioner stood up and strolled to the door, assuming that the meeting was over. He had gotten what he wanted, even though help had come in a different form, and it seemed that Bogo was done with him. He had forgotten to ask if they were done, but Bogo didn't call for him to sit back down.

"Marbury," said Bogo.

"Yes?" Marbury took his paw off the handle.

"Next time something like this happens to your league," Bogo glared at the polar bear and pointed at him, "I'm watching you. I want to see you take action."

Marbury sighed and nodded. "Okay. I'll see how far I get."

"Good. Now go."

This time, he didn't hesitate to pull the door open and shut it behind him, knowing now that he had been officially dismissed. He stood outside the chief's office with his head down, contemplating.

Thinking back once again to the first Night Howler scandal, it was clear that Marbury had become a figurehead. In the few months during which the Night Howler scandal posed a serious threat to the league, every single move came through Judson's will, not his.

Perhaps, at the meeting on Wednesday morning, Judson had tried his hand at taking control of the league again. Maybe he was just lucky that not everything had fallen into place yet. Or maybe he had been saved, albeit unintentionally, by Coach Pine. Whatever it was, he could be sure that it wouldn't be there forever.

But he didn't know if Judson had really sought to gain control of the league again. What if he was, like everyone else who had voted to cancel the tournament, just worried for player safety? If there was one thing that would get him immediately ousted from his position, it would be a wrongful accusation.

Marbury made a mental note to watch Judson over the course of the next few weeks. He figured, if Judson really wanted to control the league, then the evidence would reveal itself over time.

He started his way toward the stairwell. With what he had, he could make only one promise.

Nobody else was going to control his league again.


	4. IV: Home

**Wow. I don't know what happened. One day I decide to take a short break, and then suddenly it's been nearly 8 months since the last update.**

 **There's not really much I can do, aside from posting this chapter.**

* * *

 **IV**

 **Home**

Two mammals showed up to the hospital on Saturday to pick up Ace. Coach Buck's appearance was expected; Felix Hemsky's was not. It was a pleasant surprise to Ace, as he had only expected his coach to show up to take him.

"How's it been?" asked Ace. He had not seen Felix since the night they were eliminated.

"Fine, fine," said Felix, keeping his eyes focused on the fish tank in the waiting room.

The snow leopard sighed. "Just… you know, as normal as things can go when your friend ends up as the victim of a crime. Nothing unusual."

Aside from the extremely brief exchange between the two teammates, the time between the hospital and Ace's home was mostly silent. Ace's mind bounced between irrelevant topics in an attempt to distract himself from the immediate concerns over his leg, now that he wasn't being monitored all day.

When they reached his home, Felix helped him into his wheelchair, then pushed him inside. The keypad was too high for Ace to reach; if he was standing, it would be set at about eye-level. There was a series of platforms that smaller mammals could use to reach the keypad, but it was much too small to support his weight. Sparing himself from the difficulty of unlocking the gate himself, he simply told Felix the code for the gate.

"Four, eight, nine, one," said Ace, and Felix entered the digits into the keypad.

There was a soft beep, followed by a click, and Felix pulled the gate open. He exchanged glances with Coach Buck, but their coach simply tossed a set of keys at Felix, which took the snow leopard by surprise. He fumbled with the keys for a moment, but he ended up dropping them anyway.

"You're not coming?" asked Felix, leaning over to pick up the keys.

"You two go," said Buck. "I need to tend to the rest of the team at practice. You have a way to get there, right, Felix?"

Felix nodded.

"Then I'll see you there. When you show up half an hour late, I'll know why."

They went before the door without watching Buck drive off. They could hear as the engine lurched upon startup, and Ace listened as the noise gradually dissipated.

A short passage brought them to the courtyard. It hosted a single tree in the middle of a circular path, which split off in three directions. One of those led to the gate from which they entered; the other two led to the residencies of numerous mammals. Between the two paths, under a roof to protect it from any possible snowfall, was a white table with multiple foldable chairs strewn about.

"I'm in the one on the left," said Ace. "First floor."

Felix gave him his keys, not knowing which specific one to use for the outside door. The doorknob was at about eye-level for Ace, so it wasn't difficult for him to unlock the door himself.

The interior of the building was confined and, compared to the outside, rather dark. To the left was another door, while a velvet carpeted stairway led upstairs to the homes of other mammals, multiple picture frames scattered about. There was a small window at the first landing, which was the only other way sunlight was able to enter, aside from the other window next to the door.

It was rather convenient for him that he lived on the ground floor. That meant there was no need for him to struggle with any stairs to get to his home; it was just two doors, one right after the other.

Felix shut the door behind him and pointed at the other door on the left. "This is yours?"

Ace nodded and unlocked his door.

The inside of his house was rather mundane, not nearly what one would expect from the house of one of Zootopia's more famous hockey players. Granted, he had only played through one year so far, and he was playing with a much smaller contract compared to the older players, but most would expect the interior to be at least a little more ornate.

In fact, none of the decorations in his house were even remotely related to hockey. They were either family photos, posters, or just stock decorations. If anyone were to walk in, it would be impossible to infer that the mammal living here was a professional hockey player.

"It's a bit cramped in here, don't you think?" said Felix, somewhat awkwardly.

"I don't have much of a problem with it. It's got everything I need," said Ace. "Besides, there's plenty of room outside. Neighbors are pretty nice, too. We talk every now and then; they know who I am, but they don't mind unless it's important. To them, I'm just another guy living here, and I'm fine with that."

Felix rolled Ace into the living room. "Is anyone home right now? You know, in this little—I'm not really sure what to call it. A neighborhood? An alcove? You know, these few buildings past that gate outside."

"It's Saturday," mentioned Ace. He looked up to the ceiling, as if he were trying to spy on his neighbors from below. "Remi works on Saturdays, though, so he's probably gone. Haven't heard him stomping upstairs. He's usually pretty noisy when he's at home."

"Noisy enough that you can hear him every time he walks upstairs?" Felix coughed. "Does it ever disrupt your mornings?"

Ace shook his head and began to roll himself to his room. "No. I'm usually already awake when he gets up anyway."

Felix checked his phone for the time, noticing that it was already past noon. "Do you need me to stay, or should I head to practice?"

"I'll be fine for now," said Ace. "Go ahead. If you want to check up on me later, then that's fine." He huffed and turned his head trying to direct his voice back to Felix. "Wish I could play some."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, I'll see you soon," dismissed Ace.

"Watch game one tonight!" called Felix as he left. "Brawlers and Cavies at seven."

As soon as Felix was gone, Ace rolled himself back to his door to lock it, before positioning himself in front of the television in the living room. The remote was placed in a rather inconvenient spot on top of a counter, and he had to reach up to grab it. Thankfully, he was able to get it down without hurting himself further.

He turned on the TV, finding a film adaptation of _The Great Catsby_ playing on whichever channel he was last watching. He grimaced, wondering why he was last here; what kind of show would be on this channel that would capture his interest, anyway?

Finding the movie uninteresting, he decided to change the channel to something he was more familiar with, interested to see how the media was portraying his injury.

It took a while for his name to appear on the bottom bar, which continuously dished out scores and other news about athletes in both Zootopia and elsewhere. He ignored the ongoing show while waiting for his name to appear.

His name did not appear on the bottom bar, but the currently airing program did reveal an injury report throughout the ZHL, which caught his attention. He searched for his name and the details about his injury, even though he already knew the specifics.

He found his name eventually and read, braced for any surprises in case there was something important that he forgot or was never told.

As expected, though, the brief summary of his injury was just that: brief. The report contained no more information than what he already knew, although the time for his recovery did catch his eye.

At that moment, he remembered his expected recovery time, and only wished that he would be able to enter rehab sooner. He wished his leg would heal faster, cursing at the untimely nature of injuries.

He changed the channel. October could not approach any slower.

Ace checked the clock again. It was only three, but he felt like he had been sitting there forever. He suspected that practice must be over by now, so he was tempted to call one of his teammates, but he withheld.

He was growing bored waiting. The neighbors weren't home, so there was no point in going out to the courtyard to see if anyone would notice that he was now home. That would have to wait until evening, and while he didn't expect a ceremony for his return from the hospital, he did expect at least some acknowledgement.

The phone, which he had left on the couch, began to ring. The upbeat tune caught him off guard—there was no reason for him to be expecting any calls right now.

It took him too long to reach his phone. The distance between his room and the couch was just too far, and the phone stopped ringing before he could reach it.

He picked up his phone and checked the call which he had just missed. Whoever called wasn't on his contacts, as there was no name attached to the number given.

Despite that, he still decided to call back.

Whoever was on the other end must have been ready, as the response was almost immediate. The ringing stopped as soon as it had started, followed by a masculine voice.

"Hey Ace. You doing well?" it said.

Ace grimaced upon hearing his voice. Clearly, he was missing something. If someone who knew him had his phone number, then surely he should have theirs, so why wasn't this name on there?

It embarrassed him a little bit that he didn't know who was calling him, when he clearly should have known. The voice, slightly distorted through his phone's speaker, was unfamiliar. He wondered if the unfamiliarity of the voice was because of the distortion, or if he simply did not know the mammal speaking from the other end.

"Who is this?" asked Ace.

"Sorry. It's Orson," said the voice.

Now, he knew who it was. Orson Lynch was a second-year defenseman who played for the Cavaliers, based in the Meadowlands—on the north end of the Rainforest District. He had met Orson at a tryout camp last July, when he was still searching for a team to take him in. Being a second-year, that meant Orson's first year in the ZHL was the lockout year, as Ace remembered—last year, when the playoffs were cancelled amid the Night Howler scandal.

Ace managed a weak grin. "Hey. Haven't talked in a long time. How'd you get my number?"

"You gave it to me at tryouts," said Orson. "I just never figured to contact you till now. Haven't had too many breaks over the season. Never really wanted to inconvenience you in case you were doing something."

It made some sense, but Ace thought Orson had been too frugal in trying to find a time to call without disrupting him. "So why are you calling now?"

"Well, you guys are out, so you can't be too busy right now," he tried to explain.

Ace sighed at that explanation. There were a few seconds of silence, as he was expecting Orson to say more, but the clarification on what he meant did not come for several seconds.

"Okay. I'll be honest. It's because you're hurt and are probably sitting at home with nothing better to do," Orson stammered.

"Well, what about you?" Ace retaliated. "It's not the most convenient of times for you either. You're playing in three hours."

"You're right, it's not. I'm calling because of your leg. Are you going to be good to go for next season?"

Ace shrugged, even though Orson couldn't see him; it was a habitual response, and he didn't realize he had done it until he started speaking. "I don't know. If I'm lucky then yeah."

There was a knocking at the door, disrupting his thought process. "Someone's at my door," said Ace. "I need to go. Do call me back tonight, though, if you can."

"Okay," said Orson. "Just one more thing, your team needs to get its whole ownership situation sorted out."

He tucked his phone between his neck and shoulder, so he could continue to listen to Orson while he used both paws to roll himself to his door. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know too much," admitted Orson, "but Coach Pine doesn't really like your owner—whatever his name is, Theo, I think. I don't know, considering what he did last year and the striking similarities between what happened last year and what's happening now, I understand that everyone's a bit paranoid. I don't know enough about this to take a side, but if I were you I'd investigate the whole ownership situation and try to sort it out before it gets ugly. Ask Buck. Pine seems to like him."

The sudden influx of information was a lot for Ace to comprehend. He didn't play in the ZHL last year, so he couldn't relate to Judson's antics as well as some other players, but he was aware about the details of how last year's fiasco played out.

"I'll be careful," Ace said hurriedly, before ending the call.

He opened the door—the peephole was too high for him to reach—to find his muskox neighbor waiting at the door, tapping a hoof impatiently.

"Remi!" stammered Ace.

"How are things?" asked the muskox. "I heard you were back and I figured I'd drop by to see you. Mrs. Thornton was worried sick on Wednesday."

Ace shrugged. "Glad to see everyone's concerned about me," he said. "I'll do fine, though. I think I just need some rest. Though, do you think you can ease up on the stomping every morning? Sometimes I'm afraid you might break the floor."

Remi's eyes widened. "You mean I'm that loud?"

The wolf nodded.

"Sorry, man. I'll see what I can do about it." Remi started toward the stairs. "No guarantees, though!"

"Hey, as long as you don't fall on top of me, then we'll be good," Ace laughed, reaching for the door handle. "How about we leave it at that?"

"Deal."

After closing the door, Ace realized that everyone now seemed to be paying attention to him more. It made sense, since he had just sustained a major trauma, and it was just common courtesy for others to check on him to make sure he was okay. But after Felix's generosity—the snow leopard wasn't under any obligation to help him—and Orson's sudden call interrupted by Remi's knocking, it was beginning to get annoying.

He didn't expect the calls and checkups to stop anytime soon, either. There were still so many mammals he could think of who would either call or visit him.

"Well, at least it's nice to see that mammals care," said Ace as he rolled himself back to the living room.


	5. V: The Waiting Game

**Chapter 5. A bit slower than the others, but there's still quite a bit to get through. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **V**

 **The Waiting Game**

The next few days felt like an eternity. The brunt of the offseason had not taken kindly to Ace, and his inability to walk only served to further limit his options. Most of the day just involved sitting in front of either the television or the computer. He had tried watching something more entertaining—a sitcom here, or a reality TV show there—but it wasn't exactly appealing to him. Aside from the occasional phone call or visit, most from either Felix or Remi, he didn't really interact with other mammals as much as he would have liked.

There were still the night games, as the second round of the playoffs had been in full swing all week. Sometimes, he'd be tempted to call other players on his own, but he always decided against it, believing that the grind of the playoffs kept them busy every waking hour.

"Bored?" asked Felix. "I know I probably would be if I were you. First offseason is always the worst, anyway."

Ace swallowed the last of his salmon fillet that Felix had bought from the market. "You could have told me that earlier."

"Then again, your first offseason isn't exactly going to play out the same way as mine did. All my folks live in the city. Yours… don't, to put it short."

Ace chuckled. "And you could walk to them yourself," he added.

When he had first received the call from his family 140 miles away, Ace tried his best to sound nonchalant about the situation. He had hoped it would help to ease their concerns about his little predicament.

It had worked, to an extent. At least his parents didn't send for him immediately. When it was his oldest brother's turn on the phone, the first question was about when he would be picking him up. Not when he would be coming back on his own, or how he would be going home.

"I haven't thought about when I'd leave," said Ace. "Though I do think it'll only be for a week, at most. Probably sometime in June, when everyone's out of school."

There was a buzzing at the door—discordant, like an alarm. Ace grimaced at the noise, while Felix nearly hit the overhead cupboard.

"Someone's ringing for me at the gate," said Ace. It was strange for someone to wait there, as everyone who had visited him so far knew how to get past the gate. "Can you help me out?"

The buzzing stopped, much to his relief. Felix rushed to the door and threw it open, then returned to help Ace outside. The brief, rushed ride was rough, as Ace could feel the wheels catching every minute bump and dip in the path.

At the gate were a rabbit and a fox; they looked like the same ones from the café that one night. The ones who had rushed out of the store _toward_ him during the jaguar's assault. While the rabbit was standing straight outside the gate, the fox was leaned against the wall outside—Ace didn't see him until he was right at the gate.

"Ace Wolfburne, yes?" asked the rabbit.

"Yes. Felix, can you let them in?"

Felix opened the gate. The rabbit entered promptly, while the fox followed. They took the seats at the table, while Felix had to move one of the chairs to make room for Ace. Due to their size, the rabbit and the fox had to jump on top of the table to bring themselves to eye level with the larger predators.

"I had a hunch that the police would send for me sometime," said Ace.

"A little bit on the late side for my liking," replied the fox.

The rabbit nodded. "Anyway, I'm officer Judy Hopps, and this is officer Nick Wilde. Who's your friend?"

Felix answered for himself. "Felix Hemsky," he said, giving the two a wave.

"Though I don't think he has any details to spare," Ace interrupted. "He wasn't exactly there that night. He's just been helping me out since I got home. Do you want him here, or should he go inside?"

"Let him stay here. There's no harm in that, right?" said Judy.

Ace looked up at Felix, who was still standing behind him. He shrugged, only to receive another shrug in response.

"No problems. You'll probably forget I'm here since I don't have anything to say," said Felix.

"Fair enough," said Nick. "So, Mr. Wolfburne, you mind telling us where you were headed that night?"

"Home. Was a bit late for my liking."

"And what were you able to see?"

Ace tried to recall every detail from the night of the attack. He thought about what he was doing before he saw his attacker—walking out of a café with a cup of hot chocolate. He remembered the dimly lit street, and how he could barely see anything as he was leaving. "I didn't see him until I was hit. But you two were there that night, right? I remember seeing a fox and a rabbit in the café before I left. They looked a lot like you two."

"Yes, in fact," said Judy.

"Then I'm willing to say you two were able to see more of what was going on than I was!" reasoned Ace. "Given that I had my face buried in snow for half the time and couldn't feel anything except my broken leg, I'd figure that you two would have been able to see more of the scene than I could."

Judy and Nick exchanged glances. She hesitated on whether she and Nick should continue to press the wolf on this topic. Noticing he was beginning to sound exasperated—possibly due to attempting to recall such a trauma—she decided not to.

"Alright. That considered, moving on," said Nick. "Do either of you two know anyone affiliated with Aardvark Delivery, or do either of you hold relations with the company in any way?"

Ace shook his head, while Felix answered vocally with a straight "No."

"Okay. That went nowhere," said Judy, scribbling out a line on her notes. "Anyway, we spoke with the 'attacker' a couple days ago and he wanted you to know that he's sorry. He really is. I'm not sure if he would want to see you, under the circumstances."

Ace huffed. "If you two ever reach him, tell him I'd be interested in meeting him here. But I believe I've told you everything that's worth telling. I'm not sure if seeing me helped as much as you would have liked, but I'm about as dry on this case as you guys are. Sorry. Unless there's something else that this may relate to. The league, maybe?"

"No, that is all," said Nick. "For now."

Judy took one last note before jumping down from the perch atop the table. Nick followed, paws behind his back and head down. He seemed more eager to leave than she was, as he hurried toward the gate, while Judy had turned around to face the wolf one last time.

"Thank you for your time," said Judy.

Felix followed them to the gate and opened it for them, so that they wouldn't have to climb the narrow steps on the wall to reach the handle.

By the time they were gone, Ace was already back inside, turning the keys to his door.

"Well, they're gone," said Felix.

"It was a waste of time for everyone."

The door finally opened, and Felix held it open for Ace, who rolled himself inside. "Not everyone. What of the guy who went savage?"

"There's that," said Ace, "but nothing else. I'm just hoping they'll be able to get through their case pretty quickly."

* * *

Nick tore up the notes and tossed the paper fragments into the cup holder on his left. "Well, that was a waste of time. How didn't we realize that he couldn't see more than we did? You know what, we probably told him more than he told us!"

"You're the one who wanted to talk to him," said Judy as they pulled away from the curb. "Remember that you were the one who was hopeful that he might have known or seen some strange things before walking in."

"Oh, and you're expecting we should send the jag a message and tell him Wolfburne wants to speak with him!" complained Nick. "We're not mailmammals, I hope you realize!"

"Yes, I do realize."

"And the whole Vaughn line has run dry. Barring the truck, there wasn't even anything on the site that we could connect to him! Aside from getting the wolf and the jag together, what do _you_ suggest we do?"

Judy sighed, defeated. "Calm down. I don't like it either."

"I'm thinking back to last year. Once we had figured out the Night Howlers, who did we see first?"

"We saw Weaselton, I believe. It was because he stole some of the thing a long time _before_ we figured it out. If he was stirring up trouble again, we'd have at least gotten some reports from flower shops that their Night Howlers got swiped. He keeps moving, too, and I doubt you'll be able to find him since you've been away from that kind of thing for a year now."

"Look, my point is that we can't afford to do nothing," said Nick as they entered the tunnel. "What of that wolf's friend?"

Judy shrugged. "Nothing. But I don't think we're done dealing with the ZHL, though," said Judy. "But for now, we're on our way to Pavar, and maybe, if we keep an eye on Wolfburne, Vaughn, and Pavar, maybe one of them might slip up and reveal something they may be hiding. Until something happens, though, that's the most we probably should do."

Leaning back in his seat, Nick crossed his arms. "Fine."

* * *

Frustration.

It surrounded the entirety of the ZPD as the week went on. Some of the most dedicated investigators fell victim to restless nights, losing track of the clock as they desperately tried to find any workings in the case that would help them progress.

They had solved a case just like this last year; they couldn't believe they couldn't solve it again!

"Let's start from the beginning," said Judy. The briefing room had emptied out much sooner than normal, as some of the mammals did not appear this morning. "For now, let's ignore everything that happened with Pavar and Vaughn and Wolfburne. So first off, what is a Night Howler?"

Nick buried his face in his paws. He presumed that if he didn't know, he would have been thrown out immediately. Especially after the scandal last year, it seemed that everyone in the city was a 'professional' when it came to handling Night Howlers.

"Go on," said Nick. "Everyone knows."

"Okay. What are the city's current regulations on possession of Night Howlers?"

"Only if you're licensed, blah blah blah…" Nick rolled his eyes, leaning back and spinning in his chair as he stared at the ceiling. "Can we go on already?"

"Hold on. I'm getting there. So it means that the criminal was most likely someone without a license… but then that leaves the question of how they acquired them," concluded Judy.

"Oh, wow!" Nick sneered, tossing up the keys and catching them as they fell. "More stuff we already know!"

Judy stopped Nick's chair, nearly causing him to fall to the floor. "What I'm saying is that we've been spending this whole time focusing on the 'who' part without considering everything about 'what' was involved."

It took a moment for Nick to respond, as he had to collect himself from his dizziness. "So?"

"So forget 'who.' We'll figure that part out as this goes on. Think about it—whoever used those Night Howlers had to acquire them somehow, and no florist is just going to simply sell the things to anyone. We have no reports of theft involving Night Howlers, either."

Nick nodded; he was beginning to understand what she was getting at. For the culprit to acquire the Night Howlers, he concluded, they must have smuggled them into the city, somehow, or they must have been grown in some secretive area.

It was a bit of a stretch, sure, but it had already gotten them nearly as far as they had gotten when they met Vaughn. That approach seemed hopeful, but they soon discovered that he hadn't seen enough for the information he provided to be of any use. Judy still made sure to keep the notes on a corkboard somewhere—perhaps it may be useful later.

Nick could think of a few possible hidden spots in the city, but from how he remembered them, they would have needed some vast modifications to successfully house a patch of Night Howlers. A multitude of problems popped into his head as he thought of each spot, ranging from spatial issues, danger of exposure, lack of proper appliances, and incompatible environments.

"I know of a few spots, but perhaps we can narrow it down some to save time," said Nick. "What sort of environment is best for growing Night Howlers?"

"Temperate—normally blooms in the springtime like most other flora."

"Then cross out Tundratown and Sahara Square."

The two extreme ends of Zootopia's climate. That would take out a significant chunk of the city, in two of the four major districts. That left the other two major districts—Savanna Central and the Rainforest District—downtown, and all the minor areas surrounding the city.

It took a bit for Judy to figure out what Nick was suggesting. "So, you're saying that any hidden spot in Tundratown or Sahara Square would still e too harsh for growing Night Howlers," she guessed.

Nick nodded. "I can think of a couple good spots around Downtown. We can just comb through those areas until we find something. Better than sitting around for hours gnawing our paws off."

* * *

Marbury stood up from his seat in the press box, brushing off his paws as if he had just performed some rigorous work. The seats in the stadium continued to empty out as the thousands of fans who attended tonight's game began to leave.

The final horn sounded, signaling the conclusion of the game. Cavaliers 4, Blue Devils 2. There was a very faint applause, with even less cheering from the fans of the visiting team; the most notable group was a collection of sheep all bunched up into one section behind the Cavaliers' bench.

Some of the managers from other teams were also present tonight, but they paid Marbury no attention.

There would be no festivities around the league tonight—there was still at least one more game to play in this series, as the Blue Devils still led the series three games to two. For now, he would have to prepare for the oncoming media storm.

Judson's recent comments regarding league protocol still worried him, as the media buzz surrounding Wolfburne's injury had yet to die down. He began to wonder if it ever would—for any normal injury, coverage usually lessened after a couple of days, up until the subject's return date approached.

But he knew this was no ordinary injury. He knew why the media's attention on the injury was still at a high. The news of the new Night Howler case was intertwined with Wolfburne's injury; as long as the media's attention remained on the front pages of the news sites, so would Wolfburne.

It was a greater inconvenience than he had expected. Every interview since the incident contained at least one question concerning Wolfburne's status and how Marbury was handling everything surrounding the crime.

Even a week later, those questions still run rampant through every press conference, whenever anyone mentioned anything related to Ace—his team, his species, even talk about other players' ongoing leg injuries _in other leagues_ ticked off some interviewers. How impatient sports journalism can be at times!

Every minute, it seemed like he was speaking into a microphone. He had to choose his words carefully—if he slipped in the slightest, he would just be giving someone a reason to add fuel to the fire. The last thing he wanted to do was give Judson more leverage in trying to pry control of the league away from him again.

He went over some questions in his head as he headed toward the stairs, preparing for the upcoming interview. His attendance was already made known to the media, so sneaking out without seeing them downstairs was no longer an option.

As soon as the door opened, the entire press box was met with a gust of icy wind. The bright blue lights that refracted through the spiked hanging from the arena's ceiling dimmed as the stadium prepared to shut down for the night.

Marbury saw his way straight to the conference rooms, a lengthy walk from the press box since they were on the other side of the ice. He took the tunnels, so he would not have to deal with the crowds as they headed toward the exit.

He didn't really see a reason to be interviewed. A part of him wanted to give the interviewers a curt, witty statement about how the case has made no progress, and then leave. It would be fun and easy, but it would be a risky move if the media painted it in a negative light. For now, playing along was the best option.

Upon reaching the doorway to the visiting team's conference room, he found coach Gerard Pine sharing a laugh with a grizzly bear dressed in the grassy green Cavaliers' uniform, his last name —Lynch—and jersey number—73—printed across the back. It was almost comedic, seeing that the younger player was so much larger than the coach.

Another player, a ram, occupied the podium in the room. Several rows of foldable chairs, about half of which were occupied, took up a majority of the space. A green banner was draped behind the podium, with rows of logos alternating between that of the ZHL and the Cavaliers.

"Ah, Kit. Coaxed into interviews, I presume?" said Pine, still upbeat from their most recent victory.

"More like I was forced," said Marbury.

The wolf coach scoffed. The ram at the podium hopped off, and Pine started toward the doorway, tapping the grizzly on the shoulder twice and pointing down the tunnel to the locker room.

Marbury shared a glance with the last player to be interviewed, before he and Lynch started down the tunnels. Again, he scanned through the questions he expected to hear, tuning out all of Pine's statements as his interview progressed.

It seemed as though no time had passed when Pine stepped off the podium. It was his turn now.

 _Here's to hoping it's much of the same._


	6. VI: Riverside, Underside

**Getting somewhere here. Now that I'm starting to clear the block from all those months, these chapters are beginning to get easier for me to write.**

* * *

 **VI**

 **Riverside, Underside**

"Well, at least this is better than sitting around all day going nowhere," said Nick.

A few days had passed since their search had begun. So far, they had found nothing that would lead them further in their investigation, although they did find a couple of things that may have been useful for investigators of other cases. Perhaps, Judy thought, they should seek to cover these areas that would normally be inaccessible for larger mammals.

This spot was in a little nook between Savanna Central and the Rainforest District, down an alley that reeked of garbage bags, some of which may have gone uncollected for weeks. Like most of the areas they investigated, its entrance was too small for anything larger than a fox to enter. Nick had to crawl through the tiny opening, grazing his back on the ceiling of the passageway.

It seemed abandoned—Judy scanned the room with her flashlight, finding that all the lights had been shattered. There was a narrow passage that led somewhere else, the sound of water dripping against concrete echoing from further down the tunnel. Aside from the shattered lights, a sign that the area had been abandoned, there was nothing noteworthy here.

The tunnels eventually led them to a doorway to another room. The rusty door had been completely dislodged from its hinges, and it lay flat on the damp ground.

"How often did you come down here?" asked Judy.

"Almost never. It's mostly for the ones smaller than me. I've only come down here a few times for a couple 'meetups' with some other… shady acquaintances. Though I don't see why it's been abandoned. It's usually full."

Past the downed door, the tunnel opened to a slightly larger, rectangular room. From the ceiling hung several artificial lights in an incomplete grid. Other lights had been detached from the wires that held them up, and they lay face-down partially covered in soil.

Judy noted the beds of soil set directly under the bulbs, a clear tell that someone had been growing something down here. It was just like last year's case, though there was no way to transport this. More lights lined the walls, although there were no soil beds placed under them.

There was no clear evidence in the room that would connect this room to the Night Howlers. Any flowers they may have left would have decomposed by now.

"This definitely wasn't here last time I visited," said Nick.

"When was that?"

"Just a bit over a year ago."

Connecting it to the investigation would be a reasonable assumption. This area had been built and demolished all over the course of a year. Too late for it to have any connections to the previous case, but just in the right period for it to play role in this one.

They decided, then, to return to the ZPD and relay the evidence. Perhaps someone might be able to determine when it was abandoned.

"One more thing. These tunnels are almost too small for us to fit through," mentioned Judy, "and the ceiling is too low for a bigger mammal to fit in this room."

Nick looked up at the ceiling and turned back toward the passage that led to this room. "Right."

"So if this place has anything to do with our case—which I'm eighty percent sure about—then at least one of the culprits has to be a smaller mammal."

Again, it was something, though it was a very vague characteristic. There were so many more mammals in Zootopia that were smaller than a rabbit and a fox, and the list of known criminals in that size range was seemingly endless.

It narrowed down their search even more, though Nick was beginning to doubt whether ignoring half of the city was a good idea. When they revealed the area later that day, he stressed in their explanation that this place was in a spot between districts—perhaps, then, there might be noteworthy spots along the edges of Tundratown or Sahara Square, where the climate is barely suitable for growing Night Howlers.

The next week passed, with a few more notable reports. None of them were connected to the current Night Howler case, however. Many of the areas they visited were places that Nick hadn't been in years. Most of them were not how he remembered them, however, but he assumed it was because he was now viewing these places as an officer rather than as a criminal.

Eventually, one morning, they stumbled upon a passage under one of the bridges that connected Savanna Central and Sahara Square.

"Huh. I've been here more than I'd like to admit," said Nick. "Of course, not for a while."

The bars that would have normally restricted access to the pipe was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, Nick thought, someone must have tossed it into the river at one point. A thin layer of murky water drained out of the pipe, splashing against their paws with every step they took.

The path split in two. Within these passageways, there were no noises for Judy to trace toward a destination. The left was blocked by another series of bars that they could slip through, while the path straight ahead was open.

"Which way?" she asked.

It took a while for Nick to recall all the passageways in this maze-like system. "Straight, I believe."

The path split several more times. Every time, Judy had to stop and wait for Nick to catch up, so he could give directions. There were several instances when one of the paths was blocked by bars, though every callout Nick made avoided having to squeeze through.

A gritty noise, like rocks rubbing against each other, resounded through the passageways. A scrappier sound came after, and then the tunnel returned to its eerie stillness.

 _Splish. Splash. Splish. Splash._

Both Judy and Nick froze as they neared the next deviation in the path, but the noises didn't stop. Judy listened down the passageway, the splashing sound growing louder and closer. "They're coming this way," she whispered.

She shut off her flashlight and entered the little niche just in front of the bars. "Hide here." She slipped through the bars, gingerly placing her paws down to avoid any noise.

It was more difficult for Nick to fit through the bars without making a sound. As he hid himself in the space between the split in the passageway and the bars that blocked his path, he could notice the beam of light pointing down the tunnel, toward where they came from.

"This is going to the gate," one of them said in a scruffy voice. "Hurry up, those things can only last for so long."

Nick and Judy exchanged nervous glances. He had managed to fit one paw through the bars, though he wasn't sure if he should try to go any further, for the sake of avoiding any noise.

"Do take good care of what's in there, though," said another. "We don't want anyone running crazy prematurely."

The light grew brighter, and Nick froze in place. Judy pressed herself against the wall, while Nick tried ducking his head, as though he hoped that doing so would decrease his chances of being detected.

Neither of them dared to even take a breath as they passed. Nick wasn't even looking in their direction; he was estimating their positions entirely on what he heard.

Judy watched as they passed, and she pointed behind Nick once they were gone. They relaxed and breathed—silently—in relief. She didn't even want to imagine what would happen if one of them had turned even slightly to the right.

Nick allowed them a few seconds to progress further down the tunnel before peeking out of the little alcove.

There were three of them, from what he could see—one noticeably larger than the other two—though there could have been more that he didn't manage to catch. He glanced back at Judy and motioned for her to approach, but Judy could barely make out his outline in the dark.

The splashing sound died down a little as their suspects continued out. Judy squeezed back through the bars and turned on her flashlight, pointing it directly at the ground. "What do you think they meant by the gate?"

Nick shrugged. "Beats me."

"You follow them and see what they're doing," she whispered. "I'll go see where they came from."

Nick gritted his teeth. He didn't like the idea of splitting up, but he also didn't like the idea of leaving one side of this investigation behind. "Okay. Just remember to find the hole on the right, if my memory serves me right. You'll know it when you see it."

She peeked around the corner again, keeping her flashlight behind her. She could barely make out their positions, based off the light down the tunnel, and she waited a little longer before going.

Nick went after she did, but in the opposite direction, following their suspects. They clung to the walls as they moved, trying to avoid the water in order to remain silent.

There was only one flashlight between the two officers, and he decided that Judy would do better with it, since he could see better in the dark. From this distance, he tried to guess the species of each of the three figures, but it was to no avail.

He kept this distance as he followed them back out of the tunnels, up until reaching the first turn. Once they were out of his sight, he picked up his pace to catch up a little, keeping low and clinging to the sides to avoid the water.

Once they reached the exit and more light began to reach Nick, he could begin to discern their species. The tallest of the three was white-furred, carrying a latched silver briefcase. Its dark blue trench coat blocked many of the other features, but the movement and shape of the mammal's white, furry tail was an indicator that the suspect on the left was an arctic fox.

"Another fox…" Nick murmured.

The other two were not dressed nearly as heavily as the white fox, so Nick could make out their species much more easily. One was a beaver, while the other was a raccoon.

They had stopped at the exit, and Nick backed into the dark tunnel as the arctic fox turned and offered the briefcase to the raccoon, who took it and scampered off. The beaver exchanged a few words before it followed shortly after, while the arctic fox remained stationary.

Nick grumbled. He wanted to follow them to see where they were going, but he knew he couldn't get past the other fox without being caught.

For now, he retreated into the tunnel, to meet with Judy. It didn't seem like those two were going to move anytime soon. They were long gone, for now.

* * *

Judy waited until she was further down the tunnel before pointing her flashlight straight forward. There was a slight temptation to shine the flashlight the other way, so she could see what species their subjects were, but she knew that it was probably the worst decision she could make right now.

She came to a left turn, as the path that continued forward suddenly ended. Several more paces down the tunnel, she found a strange formation in the wall to the right, like Nick had described. An entire section of the wall had been carved out and tossed to the side, as a stone slab rested against the wall next to the opening.

It led to another passage with a light at the end. It wasn't sunlight—no, it was much too colorful to be sunlight.

The metal door that led to the room was wide open. Past it, she came to a fully lit room that instantly resembled the one she and Nick had found earlier in their searches.

Everything that was in the first room was also here, from the low-hanging lights to the soil beds placed directly underneath. On one side of the room, a row of dark violet flowers bloomed in each soil bed, while the other container had been cleared completely.

Resting against the wall on the far side was a small desk, several splatters scattered around it on the floor. A stack of cash rested on top of its surface, while a Zootopia Transit map hung on the wall above it.

She must have paced herself around the room several times before thinking to film the scene. Compared to what they had of the previous location, this one seemed more suitable for housing a greater volume of Night Howlers.

"Woah. A lot more than I was expecting, honestly."

Judy whipped around to find Nick standing at the entrance to the room. "I thought you were following them."

"I was, but they stopped at the exit," said Nick as he shut the door. "We're dealing with an arctic fox, a beaver, and a raccoon so far. The raccoon and the beaver ran off somewhere and I couldn't follow."

Judy reached for her radio. "Clawhauser," she relayed, "we have a 10-66 between Riverside and Vornoy Plaza. Suspicious raccoon, beaver, and arctic fox."

After she finished transmitting the message, she continued with collecting film of the active flower beds, with the fully potent Night Howlers. "Do you know any of them, by any chance?"

"No," said Nick.

Suddenly, the metal door to the room flew open, squeaking as it turned on its hinges and collided into the wall next to it. The sudden noise startled the duo a little bit, and they turned around to find an arctic fox standing in the doorway, holding a black satchel.

He first locked gazes with Nick, then looked at Judy as she pointed her camera straight at him.

Nick had not expected him to come down here so soon. He didn't hear anything as he headed down the tunnels, nor did he see any beams from the flashlight he carried on his way out.

Then again, Nick didn't need any lights to find his way down here either. He didn't know how well an arctic fox could see in the dark compared to him.

The arctic fox began to turn around, muttering several curse words as he took off down the tunnels. Nick bolted straight after him the moment he moved a muscle, while Judy followed a few seconds later, after she fumbled with her camera as she stashed it.

As the chase began, Judy pulled out her radio again. "Clawhauser, what's the status of the previous transmission?"

The radio transmission was difficult for Judy, as she still had to hold her flashlight and keep up with the two foxes in these dark passageways.

"We've sent a squad to investigate," said Clawhauser. "Any updates?"

"Yes, lots! Evidence found under the Savanna Central-side part of the Riverside bridge! Chase in progress, arctic fox at Riverside!"

She nearly collided with the wall, its sudden appearance catching her off guard since she was holding her flashlight too low to the ground. Raising it, she turned to the right and continued sprinting after the two foxes.

"Okay. They'll be on the lookout."

It wasn't long until the arctic fox took them out of the tunnels. Nick glanced back at Judy for a second, then locked his eyes back on the arctic fox—he couldn't let their target lose them, no matter what.

"When will they be here?" asked Nick as he took off again, toward the ramp that led to the main streets.

"In a bit," answered Judy.

The streets were quite empty at the moment; it was still early in the morning for most mammals to wake up. Nick spotted his target scurrying off down the road, and he decided to follow him directly.

He saw the arctic fox glance back momentarily, before tossing the satchel he was carrying to the right. Nick glanced back and then deviated from the path to retrieve it, pointing at the target as Judy passed him to continue the chase.

"Stop right there!" she ordered, although it had no effect.

Eventually, the chase led them to a mostly open plaza, with a few police cars scattered about in the area. Upon seeing this, however, the arctic fox quickly veered to the left and began running along the edges of the plaza.

Judy noticed that he was too focused on the bigger officers as he circled the plaza, and thus did not notice the bench right in front of him. He turned back to just narrowly avoid colliding with the bench, but it was enough to slow him down and allow Judy to close the distance.

If she dove now, she could probably grab his tail. He looked back, and then at the center of the plaza, where the larger officers were now arriving. "Stop in the name of the law!"

He stumbled again, falling to the ground with a loud scrape. Judy dove on him right away and bound his paws behind his back with cuffs.

The other officers who had arrived on the scene split up between joining Judy and investigating the area further for the two suspects she had mentioned earlier.

The arctic fox snarled, baring his teeth as he continued to struggle, as if he were looking to bite. His behavior and the noises he made puzzled Judy for a moment, since only savage mammals ever made sounds like that. _He's definitely not savage. He wouldn't have run away if he was._

She decided to ignore it for now, bringing him to his feet once she felt he was restrained enough, and that the other officers surrounding them could thwart any further attempts at escape.

"You have the right to remain…"

* * *

Once Nick arrived at the scene, the chase had already long ended. He found the arctic fox a little more beat up than he remembered, being led into a car by a hippo officer, Judy walking beside him.

He was still carrying the satchel that had been thrown away, but he had yet to check its contents.

Nick waited for Judy to finish speaking with the arctic fox. "We should go back to the ZPD."

"Right," Judy agreed.

It took a while for them to figure out where they had left the car. The chase had taken them farther away from the bridge than they initially thought. "Do you know where the other two ran off to?"

Judy shook her head. "They're on it right now. I haven't seen them, though."

Once they found the car, Nick tossed the satchel into the back seat. "I'll have to turn that in."

He took one last glance at the bridge. From here, it was less than a minute's walk to reach the entrance to the tunnels, and she wondered if it would be worth returning to that secret room.

"Maybe we should salvage what's in there," said Nick. "Come back and dig up those Night Howlers that are still growing down there, bring it to the ZPD so no one else comes back for it."

"We can come back later, if you'd like. For now, though, we should just go back and report."

Judy decided to snap a quick photo of the location and mark it on a map. "There. For future reference, when you want to come back."

Nick nodded and took his seat in the car, and they were off toward Downtown.

They weren't sure how to feel about the current status of the Night Howler case. Sure, they may have caught one of the mammals behind it, but there were still at least two at large, possibly plotting another attack somewhere in the city.

Nick still wished he could have followed the raccoon and the beaver when they left. He grumbled again, thinking back to how the arctic fox had unintentionally blocked him from reaching them. Anything could have been in that briefcase—for all he knew, it could have been a kit for setting up another farm. Then they would have to find it all over again.

"What do you think?" asked Nick.

For Judy, the drive was much more enjoyable now that Nick wasn't constantly complaining about how they were going nowhere. "About what?"

"About this case. I mean, I know it's just Night Howlers again, but do you think it's like, worse than last year's, or…"

She shrugged. "I don't know. We got the ball rolling, at least," she said.

"Hopps!" Clawhauser's voice on the transmitter sounded more frantic than before.

His sudden interjection surprised both of them. "Clawhauser! We got the arctic fox, and we're on our way back to the ZPD," said Judy.

There was silence for a few seconds, before Clawhauser spoke again. Both of them knew that when the generally talkative desk manager went silent, they should be prepared to receive some bad news. "You may want to hold off on that. You two are needed between Tundra Gate and Heat Street."

Gate…

"They said something about something going to a gate, right?" asked Nick.

Tundra Gate…

Judy's eyes widened as soon as she made the connection. "We'll be there in a few," she said to Clawhauser.

This couldn't be anything good.


	7. VII: Spirit of the Sahara

**Here we go! Chapter 7! A more character-driven chapter than the last. Enjoy!**

 **Special thanks to YFWE for beta reading.**

* * *

 **VII**

 **Spirit of the Sahara**

How could they have let this happen?

How could they not have figured out what the gate was?

One moment, they were getting ready to head back north to the ZPD building and hand over their findings for further investigation. The next, they were zipping down the streets of Sahara Square, right into the midst of another incident.

If Judy ever saw anyone else driving at this speed while on duty, she would have charged them immediately and probably wouldn't have taken any answer as an excuse for doing so—though it wasn't her decision to make.

The roads were clear, for the most part. There were a few cars that pulled to the side to make way for the speeding vehicle, but other than that, it seemed that the blaring of the sirens only served as a wake-up alarm on this otherwise normal Saturday morning.

Though Judy and Nick weren't sure whether they wanted to call this normal. A breakthrough in an investigation and an incident relating to the case in rapid succession were anything but a normal occurrence.

"Any points of interest in that general area?" asked Judy. "Near Heat Street and Tundra Gate."

Nick shrugged. "Other than a giant climate wall, I can't remember anything off the top of my head."

Judy realized that this incident could possibly lead them directly to their other two targets, the beaver and the raccoon that Nick was unable to follow just an hour ago. There was a glimmer of hope that they might even run into one of them on the way to the site.

Their target location came into view. Many banners hung from the surrounding light posts in the area, displaying images of a hockey rink, the blue-and-white backdrops contrasting with the golden Sahara Square atmosphere. There was a large parking lot with many police cars, backed by a grand roofed stadium with stained glass panels decorating its exterior. A display board read in giant brown letters, 'WELCOME TO GATE COLISEUM. Home to the Spirit of the Sahara.'

There were several mammals standing outside the doors, appearing to Judy and Nick as nothing more than tiny little specks of gold and blue from the distance. As they approached, they could begin to distinguish between the groups of mammals standing in the area; most of them were wearing either a ZPD uniform or a gold jersey with a white trim. Each jersey had a unique number assigned to it, and Nick could read the last names of those who were faced away from them.

"Looks like they were about to have a practice before their big game tonight," surmised Nick. "This totally isn't going to explode on the ZHL headlines."

By the time they arrived on the scene, it seemed that much of the initial panic and uproar from any possible incident had already been suppressed. There was no running or fighting going on in the area. Everyone seemed to be gathered around a couple of officers as they dragged a subdued coyote to a caged vehicle.

Upon leaving the car, they could hear some growling, gnawing, clawing, and snarling coming from the caged vehicle. Nick peered through the back doors to find a tiger, an antelope, and an aardvark among the savage mammals—an unusual assortment; there seemed to be no pattern related to the species of the victims.

Chief Bogo was speaking with a lion who looked on morosely at the coyote as the officers placed him inside the back of the vehicle, separated from all the other savage mammals.

"Chief!" called Judy. "I'm assuming Night Howlers?"

Bogo glanced at the officers and motioned for them to wait. "They shouldn't take long; they'll be fine by tonight and your guys should be in okay condition for tonight." He patted the lion on the back a couple times, dismissed him, and then turned to the officers.

"I've gotten word that you two detained someone pivotal to this case in the middle of Savanna Central. That's good. I believe we've got all the savage mammals taken care of here."

"Any reported injuries?"

"None so far."

That was a relief. She could already see that at least one mammal had already been gravely affected by these Night Howler attacks. She didn't know how this one compared to the one in Tundratown. From the number of savage mammals, it seemed smaller—perhaps it was because they managed to foil the criminals' plans in the middle of its execution.

"Who all is here right now?" asked Nick.

Bogo glanced at the stadium, and then across the street, where another collection of police cars had gathered. "The entire Spirit of the Sahara team, along with a few stadium workers. Security, ice maintenance, that sort. We have it that every mammal that had gone savage was hit as they were entering the stadium."

Nick took another glance inside the animal cages and noticed that none of them were wearing those golden jerseys. "Are any of the savage mammals team members?"

"So far, no," Bogo said. "And from what we know of our remaining targets, they aren't team members either. As far as we know, everyone targeted was either a stadium worker or an ordinary mammal across the street there." He pointed at the cars across the street.

Nick suspected that all the victims had to have been hit in the parking lot; surely, there was no way anyone could get inside the building without authorization. If that were the case, then it would have been unusual for the criminals to target everyone else _except_ the players.

"There's still at least two others at large," mentioned Judy. "No doubt they were behind this attack. It's a beaver and a raccoon—that much could help."

"We'll keep searching. Go back to headquarters for now. We can see to our arctic fox there."

* * *

No one had any time to prepare for the emergency meeting. It was even more rushed than the last, considering the difference in the timing of each incident. Last time, the news had been released in the middle of the night.

This time, however, the news didn't come out until morning! When he woke up, Marbury checked his phone to find that it had been ringing for almost the past five minutes. In that timeframe, he had gathered several missed calls and several more messages concerned with what had happened.

Rather than regard these sensationalized messages, he decided to read the news articles for himself. There were two main articles that caught his interest. One claimed that someone suspected of growing and distributing Night Howlers had been detained. The other was not so optimistic—that Spirit of the Sahara was heavily involved in the attack immediately following the arrest in Savanna Central.

When he reached the part that read "no major injuries," he sighed and blinked several times in relief. He didn't want to deal with another Wolfburne. However, since Spirit was merely involved in the incident, he could sense a whole new uproar arising in the league offices.

 _Another meeting, another back and forth between those two,_ thought Marbury. He had already thought out a possible solution for that night's scheduled game between Spirit and the Blue Devils. _Man, I was so close to making it._

"I see you have a point, Theo. Unlike you, though, I actually care about what the players want," Pine barked. "And they've insisted that _they_ want to keep playing."

"Don't be delusional, Gerard. Unlike you, I actually know what's best for the players and the spectators, even if they don't know it themselves. And don't pretend it's what all the players want just because your players wanted it the last time. You're already out, and last I checked there are still four teams left that might be worried about what just happened!"

The back-and-forth between the wolf coach and the leopard owner continued for a while. It seemed that Pine's argument was slipping; he was just aiming to keep the league open for another three weeks, enough time to finish the playoffs, though Judson insisted that no one knew when the next attack would occur or who could be affected.

Pine turned to the other coaches, managers, and owners in the room. While the attendance was not ideal by any means, each team had at least managed to send a representative, including Spirit. "Maybe we should hear Adam's thoughts."

The oryx across the room, the owner of Spirit, stood up. "I stand behind whatever Kit believes is best for the league. I just wish that, after all that's happened today, my team does not play in Tundratown tonight."

Marbury nodded. "Fair enough. I'll abide by those terms. I propose that we postpone tonight's game until Monday and we move the starting date of the finals only if necessary. Theo, if you could bear with us, we only need to stretch this out for three more weeks."

He thought about mentioning a plan to meet with Chief Bogo about the most recent events, but then he remembered what Bogo had told him last time they met. The chief wanted _him_ to handle this decision; _he_ had to be adamant about whatever final decision he settled on, in the interest of the league and its owners.

Judson grumbled. "Kit—"

"Those in favor?" asked Merbury.

Most of the paws and hooves in the room shot up, with several nods from some of the representatives. Judson huffed upon seeing how outnumbered he was, sitting back down. "Fine. At any rate, it's better than making them play tonight."

Marbury thought about what this rescheduling would entail. He rarely ever had to handle game rescheduling in his time as commissioner, mainly because there was rarely any reason to reschedule a game, much less during the postseason. It couldn't be too severe a shift; only two days, and the other side of the bracket would still play tomorrow's scheduled game anyway.

"Then it's done. I can't imagine too many fans will be happy about this, though."

* * *

It was now afternoon, about five hours since the attack at the stadium. Speculation about the attacks was at its peak, spreading among news networks and sports journals like wildfire. There were several analysts shouting out hot takes about how this may be the nail in the coffin for Spirit's otherwise stellar season.

Ace almost wanted to laugh at some of these claims. There was always some sort of factual background in their arguments, but he remained incredulous on the idea that these theories were too far-fetched. He knew Spirit had been on a downward trend that past week, falling to the Blue Devils in the first three games of the series. He didn't see Spirit making a comeback, anyway. If they lost their next game, it would _not_ be because of this most recent attack.

"Have you heard?" asked Felix.

"Heard what?"

"About today's Night Howler attack in Sahara Square. I was thinking it might be important to you."

Ace moaned. "Yeah, I've heard."

Felix picked up the remote from the couch. "They've postponed tonight's game and are continuing the semis on Monday."

"Way to delay their elimination for a couple more days. But I really just don't want to talk about it right now. It's not like we can be a part of league decisions until the ZAPA meetings, anyway."

The Zootopian Association of Professional Athletes was a player-run organization governing the major sports leagues in Zootopia. It was made up of several divisions, one for each league. Some league's divisions could afford to hold year-round meetings. The ZHL, unfortunately, was not one of those leagues; the rigorous schedule of their season meant that the players could only hold formal meetings during either the offseason or during league-scheduled breaks in the regular season.

The next meeting for the ZAPA's hockey division was still a few weeks away. While he still wanted the league to play through the rest of the tournament, he wouldn't be surprised if they chose to cancel it for the sake of player safety.

That was certainly going to be a major topic for this offseason's ZAPA meetings. He made a mental note to share his thoughts on it when the time came.

"Okay." Felix hesitated for a moment. "You know, you could use something more relaxing. Maybe a show could do you well. I see you joke around on the ice a lot."

Ace just shrugged, and Felix turned on the television, muting it immediately so that they wouldn't have to hear any more news about the attack. Once he finished finding a channel, he unmuted it and stood up. "I need to go," he said, heading toward the door. "We miss you at practice, by the way."

"I'm assuming it's just not the same when I'm not there, eh?"

"Not really." Felix opened the door and stepped outside. "Not much we can do about it aside from hoping you get well soon."

"You and me both. Well, I'll see you later, then."

Ace shook his head and turned the television off as soon as he heard the click at the door. He waited a few minutes, about the amount of time it would take Felix to drive to practice from his home.

No matter how many times he tried—no matter how many times he shook his head or took a deep breath—the Spirit incident kept creeping up on his mind. The articles didn't reveal exactly who had been struck with the serum, only that the most any of the team members had to be treated for were minor scratches. Still, the entire team had stayed with them the entire time.

 _A team with heart_ , Ace thought. They were just concerned for their teammates, just as the rest of the Royals had shown concern for him during his time in the hospital. Perhaps, if he knew at least two teams behaved like this, all the teams might have this pack mentality.

What did this incident really mean for the league, though? Sure, it would come up in committee meetings during the offseason, but where would this lead them? Having not been in Zootopia at the time of the first case—the one that led to the ZHL's closure—he didn't know enough about it to compare it to this year's case. In fact, he was surprised that the league hadn't closed in the wake of the recent attack, in which the league has been directly involved.

Whether it was for the better, he couldn't decide. It all depended on whether or not the league could hold on for the next few weeks without another attack. Perhaps it was a matter of luck for the league; he could only hope that the ZPD could stop those criminals before another severe incident.

Eventually, he traced it back to who it all started with: himself. If he had just done anything different that night! The timing for him to meet that jaguar the second he left that café had to be impeccable. The chances were so slim, now that he thought about it.

Was this how luck worked? Things just happening by random chance? Or was there some overarching plot in the criminals' agendas, and the league was just a piece in their games? Perhaps he could have avoided the coincidental timing of the attack, but even if he did, there would still be a savage jaguar roaming around the premises. Who was to say it wouldn't get to him after he was away from the café, where those officers couldn't help him?

He couldn't decide if he wanted to consider himself lucky or unlucky—unlucky that he was hurt in the first place, but lucky that the off-duty officers were there to help him when he needed it.

Then he brought himself to consider the morning's incident. If his own injury had not actually been a stroke of bad luck—that is, someone targeted him for whatever reason—then this one was would confirm anyone's suspicions that someone was directly attacking the league. He disregarded why anyone would do that for now, but that approach to the league's involvement in this case was beginning to feel more plausible.

He picked up his phone, wondering whether he should call someone or perhaps find a way to reach those officers. Going to the ZPD himself was an option, but he didn't trust himself enough with the wheelchair to get there in one piece.

 _Where's that jaguar? Surely, the police have reached out to him by now._ He realized that he didn't even know his attacker's name.

His phone rang on its own. The name of the caller, 'BRENT WOLFBURNE,' appeared on the screen, and Ace swiped the answer button as quickly as he could. "Hey, bro."

"Hey, pup. I know I normally don't call you myself. How's the big city been treating you?" asked Brent on the other line

"I'm having to live like a hermit lately," Ace answered. "Are you home right now?"

Home. Ace sighed at the thought of it; he hadn't been home in over eight months. While he had gotten over the most severe bout of homesickness a while ago, he still felt it creep up every now and again.

"Nay. I'm on my way home. Is your leg forcing you into your hermit-esque lifestyle?"

"Yes." Ace started rolling himself to the kitchen. "It's been three weeks. I'd really like to get out of this hellhole."

"I can come pick you up if you want. I'm not busy today, and it's only a two-and-a-half-hour drive for me, anyway."

For a moment, he thought about it. He didn't have anything coming up in the next couple of weeks; the ZAPA meetings weren't until after the final round. But there was still the possibility that he might need to be involved in the Night Howler case. "Not today. As much as I'd like it, I just can't."

The morning's incident had to have sparked some interest in his condition, though. Whether it was an officer or a journalist, someone wanted to see him.

"Mom and Dad are still wondering when you're coming home."

"Just tell them sometime in the offseason." Ace raised his voice a little. "I need to work it around all the meetings… _and_ the reevaluations for my leg… _and_ possible legal complications…"

"Oh." Brent paused for a moment as Ace opened the fridge and pulled out a yogurt cup. "Well, then it's still some time until we see you. We miss you; home's just not the same when you're not here. We're hoping you get well soon."

"Later."

It wasn't something Ace was used to, hearing his brother truly concerned about him. Perhaps they had played out the sibling rivalry for too long.

Those bouts of homesickness began creeping up on his mind again, though he welcomed those longing thoughts this time. If anything, it blocked out his thoughts about Spirit and how he believed that he was the reason for the league's plight.

He sighed again. _Get well soon, me._


	8. VIII: Recollections of an Arctic Fox

**Nothing much for me to say here. This came together a lot quicker than I expected, though. A pleasant surprise for me, since I usually take ages to write anything. As always, enjoy!**

 **Special thanks to YFWE for beta reading.**

* * *

 **VIII**

 **Recollections of an Arctic Fox**

All the lights were out, save for one tiny lamp resting on a brown desk in the middle of the room. Another little device rested beside it, giving off a diminutive red light that did not brighten the room any more. The arctic fox inside, still paw-cuffed, sneered through the wide window at the tiger police officer standing just outside. The officer didn't flinch, only moving to check his watch for a moment.

After a few seconds, the fox started coughing, falling out of his seat and landing on all fours. He tried using his paws for support, but the cuffs made it difficult for him to push himself back up. Eventually, he was able to use the desk to help himself to stand up and return to his seat, breathing heavily. Ruffling his whiskers, the tiger began to wonder whether or not the convict was sick.

The door behind the tiger opened, and finally he moved from his position. A rabbit, a fox, and a cape buffalo stood at the doorway. The buffalo carried a pile of papers, while the fox held a satchel, handling it delicately as though it contained some fragile material. "Chief," greeted the tiger.

Bogo brushed off the acknowledgment and marched up to the glass, joining him in watching the arctic fox. "Who is this, Ronaldo?"

"His name is Zeff Whitaker." Ronaldo, the tiger, handed him a file containing a single sheet of paper, and Bogo began reading.

Judy and Nick climbed onto the platform by the window, so they could see inside the room. They couldn't hear the arctic fox; they could only see what he was doing. Upon seeing the object in Nick's paws, his eyes widened, and he began shaking his head and muttering several inaudible words.

Nick glanced at the satchel, then back at the fox. No one had opened it yet, though the fox's alertness upon seeing it gave him reason to believe there was something important inside.

"Is he… okay?" The tiger gave the chief a concerned look, pointing his paw at the glass. "I get the feeling he isn't. He's had a few coughing fits in the time I've been watching and another just before you arrived here. Should he see a doctor?"

"We may see to that." Bogo opened the door to the room and entered. "Hopps, Wilde, come inside. Ronaldo, go see to the bullpen."

He took the seat on the other side of the desk from the fox and then motioned for the duo to follow. Judy and Nick filed into the room, and each of them took one of the smaller seats located in the corners of the room; Judy sat in a corner on the fox's side of the room, while Nick's seat was just behind Bogo's.

"Sorry I'm late. I presume that's where you want to sit, then?" asked Bogo, directing his question at the arctic fox.

The arctic fox heaved a sigh as he turned to face the chief's intimidating mien. As Nick watched, he could see him attempt to don the same sharp gaze as the time passed. He blinked rapidly and shook his head on several occasions, and with each shake his breathing seemed to get heavier. After a while, he simply shrugged in response.

"I'll take that as a yes. Bear with me; this is just for my own reference." Bogo picked up the little device and pushed a button. "This is Chief Bogo, Zootopia Police Department. It is currently about 2:12 in the afternoon on Saturday, May 13, 2017. This will be a taped conversation with last name Whitaker, first name… Zeff." He read their detainee's profile once more.

He set his papers down and gently adjusted the device and the light, pointing it closer to the fox's side of the desk. It wasn't pointed directly at his eyes, but the fox did have to squint and turn away several times as he adjusted it.

"Good afternoon. As I've already said, I'm Chief Bogo. This here is Officer Hopps," he pointed at Judy, "and Officer Wilde," he motioned toward Nick last. Both of them waved and greeted the arctic fox when their respective names were called. "We've already advised you of your rights. Is that correct?"

Whitaker nodded.

"Would you like for me to read them again, or should we jump straight to your questioning?"

Very subtly, he shook his head. Judy could barely catch the gesture from behind.

"Looks like a no to me, so we're going to continue." Bogo flipped to his next sheet of notes. "We'll go at whatever pace you want. I'm sure you're just looking to get this over with."

"How can I help you out, then? I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

His voice took everyone by surprise not because of how deep it was, but because of how timid it sounded. They weren't entirely sure if he was afraid of the police or something else. However, it did mean that he probably wouldn't do a good job at hiding anything.

Bogo briefly scanned his notes. "We want to talk to you about where you were just this morning, what you were doing, and why you were supposedly maintaining a secluded Night Howler farm."

Whitaker nodded and repositioned himself in his chair, leaning forward toward Bogo and resting his elbows on the desk. "Okay."

"One more thing before we start, now that you're speaking. How are you feeling? I've been informed that you're having coughing problems lately. Do you want something to take care of that?"

"No, it's fine. I, uh… I really don't know, myself. I haven't really been thinking straight or feeling right all day. I might have spent too long—"

He cut himself off before he could let it slip, but Nick and Judy could already guess what he was going to say. Nick even imagined him completing the sentence and revealing himself before Bogo even started asking the real questions. "With Night Howlers?" he tried to finish for Whitaker.

The quiver in the arctic fox's voice worsened as he corrected Nick's presumption. "Bah, whatever," he said submissively. "No. Night Howlers only inflict psychological effects on mammals, and I'm not currently trying to kill anyone right now—or at least, I hope so. It was probably the air down there."

Bogo took over again. "I was going to ask you about our officers finding you exchanging Night Howler serum with two others earlier today. Based on what you said earlier, I can verify that this is true, yes?"

"Yes. That's true," he confessed.

It took a while before Bogo moved on to the next question, as he had to sift through the papers a little. "I'm going to jump back and forth here a bit here. This is going back to April. I presume you also carried out the attacks at Flurry Street in Tundratown on Tuesday, April 18, 2017, at approximately 11:45 p.m. Is that correct?"

The room went silent. Nick watched him intently, searching for any motion that may give an answer. He was mostly watching out for any possible gestures that may be interpreted as unintentional confessions.

After a while, the arctic fox shook his head. "No. You're thinking about Knight."

"Night, as in the time? Yes, we're aware that the Night Howler attack happened at night."

"No. Knight. With a 'K.'"

Everyone else in the room exchanged confused glances. "Clarify," Bogo demanded.

"Howard Knight."

"Oh, so a name?"

"Yes. I didn't carry out either of the attacks. I wasn't even in Tundratown when the first one happened. Knight was the one who carried out the bulk of the attacks."

"How did you get to know him?"

Again, the room fell silent. Bogo adjusted the light one more time, while Nick once again began looking for any gestures from the arctic fox. Judy began wondering who Howard Knight was and whether he could have been either the beaver or the raccoon Nick was talking about.

"How did you get to know him?" Bogo repeated, this time more sternly.

The arctic fox glanced at the window, although no one was standing outside the room. With every second that passed as he tried to form an answer, he seemed to grow more worried, and eventually he began panting and shifting in his seat, before another bout of coughing interrupted him.

"Uh… it goes a while back," he said once he was able to speak again. "I don't know exactly where to start."

"That's fine. Start anywhere you want, if you must."

He brought both paws up to rub his muzzle, since they were still cuffed. "Perhaps this is a bit too far back. Do you remember the first Night Howler attacks from last year? Plotted by the assistant mayor, I believe."

How could any of them have forgotten? These new attacks had brought the first incident under new scrutiny; several of the officers had tried to compare some of the trends between that scandal and this one but failed to make anything out of it. It was one of the factors that had led to major frustration around the ZPD earlier in the case.

"Of course. We all do," said Bogo. "Wasn't a great time."

"Well… let's just say I haven't always been involved in the shady business. I had a life, a job, you know. What most mammals in the city get."

"Okay. That's understandable."

"But I never really had anyone reliable to lean back on. Everyone at the time was running around crazy, everyone was so anti-predator, and I just felt like I had this knack for always running into these abusers, even after it was over."

Judy tensed up as she was reminded of all the anti-predator protests that she inadvertently spawned last year. To think that this fox had his life ruined because of her mindless actions…

 _That was over a year ago, though._ Yet here she was, in a room with someone who most likely wouldn't be here had she not slipped with her words.

"'Never trust a fox,' they said." He focused his eyes on Nick as he recited the saying. As he spoke, his voice became harsher. "It lost me my job, standing, everything. Relegated to roaming the streets searching desperately for any way to scrape by. You know what I mean?"

Nick held a stern gaze, focused solely on the arctic fox, who was looking more desperate with every passing moment. Whitaker's explanation of his dilemma was so eerily similar to Nick's past that Nick began to wonder if he knew who he was. Were they just coincidentally alike, or did he choose to describe it this way just to spite Nick? Surely it couldn't have been the latter; they had never met until today.

"Yes. The old street fox type." Bogo glanced at Nick very briefly. "I can't relate to it, but I presume it's a hard life. For reference, what did you do back then?"

"Well… I always had a knack for botany. Maybe that's why I couldn't find a job after losing mine—most botanists and the like are prey, and heavens forbid a fox work so close to his prey."

Suddenly, everything began to line up. After all, it wasn't like any random mammal would be able to properly grow Night Howlers.

"Okay. Go on."

"It was… I don't exactly know, maybe a month or two ago when I ran into him. He saw how desperate I was. Came up to me and said something akin to, 'Cast to the streets because of what you are….' I don't remember it exactly. But it hit me somewhere; he seemed to know what I had been through. Read me like a book." Whitaker shuddered a bit.

"Where did you meet him?" interrupted Judy.

It took a few seconds for Whitaker to respond. "I met him in Savanna Central. He was like, 'Do you want to get back at those prey for ruining us?' and I told him I wasn't into that craft. He said it was no worry. Asked me what I was good at, and I told him botany. But I held myself back, mentioned that I wasn't that good."

Judy could sense where this was going. "How'd you end up going with him?"

"He told me I'd be perfect. I didn't have much of a choice between going with him and staying on the streets. I said to myself, 'Hey, if I get caught, living in a cell can't be any worse than what I'm getting on the streets.' That's how I convinced myself to go. Thinking that the worst consequences of a change can't be anything worse than anything that I'd still have if everything stayed the same. So a couple days later, we met again at the same spot. He handed me a bag and said, 'Take care of them and keep them hidden.' I wouldn't have guessed that I'd end up growing the flower that drove me to desperation in the first place."

Based on how he spoke, everyone could tell that his conviction was inevitable. No amount of useful information or confessing would spare him from his fate. In a way, Judy felt somewhat sorry for him. Even if it was his decision in the end, it didn't seem that he had many opportunities to begin with.

"I know we should have asked this a while ago," started Bogo, "but what species is Mr. Knight?"

"He's, uh… a badger."

 _Okay, so he wasn't one of the other two at their hideout this morning,_ thought Nick. He couldn't imagine how much simpler it would be if he turned out to be either the raccoon or the beaver. They had assumed the those two had carried out the attack in Sahara Square, but according to Whitaker, Knight was the one who did most of the work.

He decided to ask who they were. "When you were at your hideout this morning, you were with a raccoon and a beaver. Who were those two?"

"They're not so important. Names are Philip Cross—the raccoon is—and the beaver is Maria Timbers. Just acquaintances of his. Not friends, just acquaintances, though probably a bit closer to him than me. They don't dart anyone themselves, but they were there the night of the first attack. Today… I'm not so sure."

Judy exchanged another glance with Nick. He wasn't sure if there were any leads that could possibly lead them to one of the three suspects. If they reached either the beaver or the raccoon, they could find a way to get to Knight.

Nick stepped forward and set the satchel down on the desk. "What's inside this? You discarded it during the pursuit—something important?"

"Just bulbs. Early-stage Night Howlers," explained Whitaker. "Philip gave it to me this morning on his way out. It was from Howard."

Nick opened it, holding it under the light, and pulled out the contents, finding that it contained exactly what he had described. _Wow! She really wasn't lying when she said they looked like onions!_ He picked one bulb out of the bag and inspected it. "Where does he get the bulbs?"

Whitaker shrugged. "He doesn't tell me. I think he gets it from outside the city. As far as I know, you can't acquire them normally here unless you're licensed. There's even been talks about banning it outright, right?"

"There has," confirmed Bogo. At this point, none of them would be surprised if it went through now, in the midst of the attack in Sahara Square.

"I think that would explain how they're getting around in the city without us knowing," mentioned Judy.

"So tell us more about this Howard Knight fellow," Bogo continued. "What's he like?"

Whitaker scowled as he thought of an answer. "I don't see him much, but he's pretty easy to read, I'll admit."

"So then what is he like?"

"Mm…" Whitaker paused again and stroked his muzzle with one paw while allowing the other to hang limp from the paw-cuffs. "Delusional and, uh… a bit petty."

"Continue."

He looked up, as though he were trying to search for more ways to describe the badger. "It's tough to hide anything from him. I take it he can read others quite easily. He's also crafty when it comes to persuading others to do what he wants. Mostly tries to sympathize with mammals like he did with me, but he can bribe as well. He wills others into what he wants from them."

"So the sly type? Like a fox?" speculated Nick.

"Somewhat," Whitaker said tentatively. "Not 100% fox-like, but there are similarities."

"Do you know where he goes from time to time?"

Whitaker shook his head. "No. I told you, I only see him occasionally, and it's in a different spot every time. I don't know what district he lives in or if he even lives in the city to begin with."

"Did you know from the start that he was like that, or did it take you a while to figure it out?" asked Judy.

A twinge of doubt arose in his voice. "Yes? No… not really. When I saw him after the night of the first attack, I wasn't too happy, since I didn't want to have to deal with savagery again. He told me he was testing the quality of my creation, but I still think he was lying. When I decided that I wanted to stop making Night Howlers, he reminded me that I couldn't hold myself up alone and that he still needed me for him to achieve his ambitions."

"Gee. And I thought he'd be more like you when you first mentioned him," muttered Nick.

"You think I'm also delusional? You think I _wanted_ to break the law?" He leaned forward, looking past Bogo and directing all the malice in his voice toward Nick. "If I could go back and change something, I'd go further back than my decision to work with him; I would have busted my ass right out of this city before the scandal even started."

"Okay. Okay. We get it," interrupted Bogo.

He was about to force Whitaker to sit back down, but another series of coughs had done the job for him. Bogo waited another few seconds after his fit had ended before continuing.

"You don't like him very much—that's fair. You have your regrets about your decisions—also fair. Hopps, Wilde, do you still have questions?" He shot quick glances at the other two officers in the room.

Judy spoke up. "One more thing. It's a bit of a long shot. Dawn Bellwether used the Night Howler as a method of attempting to establish prey dominance through fear," she explained. "Based on what you've said, I'm assuming Knight is anti-prey, so would it be safe to assume that he somehow wants to reestablish traditional predator dominance?"

Whitaker contemplated over Judy's closing question. "No, it's not safe. I don't know what he's going for with this, though frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if you were right. But he never told me what he was thinking, and neither did his other acquaintances."

Once a few more seconds had passed, Bogo spoke up one more time. "That seems to be all for now. Would you like a drink, and we can end this here, or is there anything more about Knight that you would like to tell us?"

Clearing his throat and coughing a little bit more, Whitaker patted his chest several times. "Water would sound nice."


	9. IX: Criss Cross

**It's NHL playoff time! My team is still in the running!**

 **So I had written another chapter before this one, but I decided that I wanted to post this one first. But hey, that means next chapter won't take as long to come out!**

 **As always, special thanks to YFWE for beta reading.**

* * *

 **IX**

 **Criss Cross**

"Philip Cross? Maria Timbers?" asked Nick. "Never heard of them, unfortunately."

"Whitaker said that Cross and Timbers are more closely associated with Knight than he was," said Judy. "I'd assume they'll be easier to find than Knight himself."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, but where?"

Judy already had an answer in mind. "There were still some Night Howlers in Whitaker's farm when we left it. I'm not sure how healthy those flowers are right now, but there is some other equipment they might want to pick up."

"So," interrupted Nick, "you're saying that those two will try to get everything they left there."

"Bingo!" She patted Nick on the shoulder. "That could take us right to them. But you know, I was hoping Whitaker could give us some leads on Howard Knight's whereabouts. Seems a mystery to everyone, even for Whitaker. That alone should have been enough for that fox to not trust him."

Nick shrugged but did not speak of the matter. He still couldn't help but think about how eerily similar Whitaker's past was to his—being deemed untrustworthy, forced onto the streets, desperately trying to make a little bit of money just to survive. Was it just a universal experience among foxes?

But that presumption didn't line up. Nick went over the details of the case one more time, starting with Wolfburne. They hadn't since heard from Tom Pavar, the jaguar who attacked him, but he remembered his coworker, Rufus Vaughn, also a fox. As far as he knew, Vaughn was living a perfect life in the city, with a decent job and all. Had he just found work compatible with his kind before the first scandal, or did he have a better time recovering from the incident?

"At least detaining Whitaker should cause a setback in his plans, right? Now that he doesn't have anyone to farm Night Howlers for him."

"Sure… I guess," said Nick. He leaned back and kept his eyes on the window, peering outside solely to avoid eye contact.

Judy didn't fail to notice his tentativeness; he was usually more talkative in situations like these. She knew he liked to speculate about cases, and this most recent inflow of information gave them so many options on where to go next with this investigation. "Is something bothering you?"

Nick sighed and looked at Judy. "Do you think it's fair that Whitaker's past is basically the same as mine, but he's going to get jail time while I… well, I'm here?"

It took Judy a moment to think of it, to consider what she knew of Nick's past and compare it to what Whitaker told them about himself. They were both foxes, both cast out by others, and both involved in some hefty criminal activity at some time. That was where the similarities seemed to stop. "No, it doesn't sound that fair. But consider what he was doing compared to you. He's been growing a flower that's restricted for obvious reasons. You spent most of your time… well, selling harmless snacks."

Nick scoffed. "There was my stint with Mr. Big."

Judy shrugged. "Then maybe it just boils down to luck."

"Yeah," muttered Nick, slouching in his seat. "Luck. Then of the three foxes ever involved in this case—me, Vaughn, and Whitaker—where do we fall on that spectrum?"

Judy thought back to her encounters with each of the three foxes, considering the states of each one at the time. Of course, she knew Nick, and they had just met Whitaker the day before, but it took her a little while to even remember who Rufus Vaughn was. "I'd say Whitaker's on the lower end, and you're somewhere up there. Vaughn would be in between. But still, I'm not sure how none of the police figured you out until I came along."

"I was better at getting away with it. It's not that what I did out there is harmless in comparison to what he did," Nick tried to explain. "I was just better at not getting caught. You know, I was quieter. And I didn't get caught up in any major police investigations. That's how I stayed invisible for years."

"Then maybe there's some reasoning. The louder crimes are often more severe."

"I still don't think it's fair. I get a second chance and he doesn't? Just because you happened to need me to solve your case?"

"Well, we need Whitaker for our case, too. Nick, where are you even going with this?"

Nick sighed and stared at the ceiling of the car. "I don't know. It's just been troubling me since his interrogation. I think it's just something to consider, second chances. But I know he won't get it."

Judy didn't know what to say. Why had she given Nick a chance in the first place? Was it just because he was a necessary piece in solving the first Night Howler scandal, or was there some friendship bias in her decision to offer him a spot in the police department?

 _Perhaps now isn't the best time to think about it._ She shook her head, pulled out of the ZPD parking lot and turned left, heading toward the bridge under which the entrance to Whitaker's Night Howler farm was located, between Savanna Central and Sahara Square.

"Anyway, Cross and Timbers," said Nick, changing the subject. "Raccoon and beaver."

"We find them, they could lead us to Knight," concluded Judy.

The drive back to the entrance of the Night Howler farm did not take long. The area had been left mostly untouched since the day before, when they chased Whitaker out of the tunnels.

While there was no need for them to enter the passageways, they decided to leave the car several blocks away, fearing that the presence of a police vehicle in the area might deter the criminals from even attempting to enter the farm.

At that time of day, the roads and sidewalks were much more crowded than they were when they first investigated the area. A sizable number of predators, mostly consisting of big cats, roamed around the area. The plaza where they caught Whitaker was also beginning to fill up as shops opened for the day.

They watched from the bridge right above the entrance, attempting to blend in with the crowd to reduce the chances of their suspects possibly noticing them.

Soon, Nick had the idea of checking the farm for any more evidence they might need; perhaps there was something in there that they might have missed, that could help them find either Cross, Timbers, or Knight. "We should go in," he said, before jumping down to the entrance.

As they traversed the tunnels, Nick found no sign of any activity since the chase. Everything was just as he remembered: murky water, dark passageways, blocked splits in their path. He kept his eyes on the ground, checking if Whitaker might have dropped anything in the tunnels during the chase.

He found nothing, and soon they reached the room of Night Howlers. Again, everything was just as they had left it; half of the soil beds empty, the other half serving as home to fully grown Night Howlers. "I don't think those flowers are going to last another week without Whitaker here," said Judy.

"Well, then that's good," mentioned Nick. "We'll give them until the flowers die to try to come down here. Less time wasted for us." He reached the desk in the room and pulled out one of the drawers. The compartment flew out much easier than Nick anticipated, and he had to squeeze the knob to prevent himself from falling back. Inside, he found a small set of printed documents.

Soon, Judy was right beside him, eyeing the thin stack of papers he had pulled out. Nick only had time to skim through the first one, which contained nothing more than a list of planned events, with a few notes etched in pen.

The plan seemed to extend out for almost a full month. It went as far back as April 18—the night of the first attack—and went as far out as May 13, the day of the attack on Spirit's stadium. An abnormally large number of events were listed under May 13, much longer than those listed under April 18.

"Maybe yesterday's attack was never completed," deduced Nick. "Look at this." He leaned toward Judy and pointed at one line on the paper. "'Collection #2 at 12:30.' Well, that clearly didn't happen."

Nick set the other papers down on the desk for Judy to see while he continued to observe the schedule. "Whitaker mentioned that he never really knew what Knight's plans were. Doesn't look like he's lying here. There's no reasoning anywhere here. It's just 'do this, do that' for a whole month."

Judy took the rest of the stack and immediately noticed that each paper was a colorless, zoomed-in portion of the map of Zootopia, each one containing an X marked in pen somewhere on the map. She had to hold the papers up next to the transit map above the desk to figure out which part of the city each one was centered on.

One of them was a map of the east end of Savanna Central and the west side of Sahara Square, with the river separating the two districts. The black X was on the Savanna Central side of the river, near the bridge that connected the two districts.

"These are maps," said Judy, waving the paper in front of Nick. "This one points directly to our location at this farm. Here's another one." She pulled another sheet from the pile, finding that it matched with a location somewhere in the northern Rainforest District.

"What's this one, though?" Nick pulled out another sheet and held it up toward the transit map, finding that the X matched with a spot between Savanna Central and the Rainforest District. "This matches with that first spot we found earlier!"

"I think these maps all point to where Whitaker was looking to grow these Night Howlers," said Judy. "If one points right here and another points at the first spot."

"I'd also assume that Whitaker was planning on meeting Knight either yesterday or today." Nick went back to the list of events, pointing at the end. "This only goes up to yesterday. It looks like he was planning on moving locations after the rest of this farm was cleared out, and then he'd wait for further tasks there."

Judy went back through the pile of maps, setting the two they already knew about on the desk. That left seven more potential spots. "Not sure how far along these other spots might be. We might have looked through some of them already, in fact," she said. "We'll keep this. They might try to use those spots anyway."

Nick folded the papers and placed them in his pocket as he started toward the exit, Judy following closely behind him. Once they were out, they found that the raccoon and beaver had yet to reappear.

They went to the car a few blocks away to drop off the papers for safekeeping. The schedule might not be so important to them, since it only went up to the day of the second attack, and Whitaker's arrest essentially rendered it useless.

They soon returned to their spot on the bridge, watching the area for any signs of the raccoon or the beaver. There were some raccoons and beavers that passed by, but none of them were together, and they did not resemble the criminals from the day before. Their guises were still fresh in Nick's mind, since he had watched the exchange the day before.

After several minutes of waiting, Judy spotted someone heavily dressed and hanging their head low, steadily drifting toward the entrance to the farm. Upon further scrutiny, she could barely see that the suspicious mammal had a ringed tail, a defining feature of a raccoon.

She elbowed Nick and pointed at the raccoon, whose attire already made him stand out in the surrounding crowd. Nick smirked upon seeing him. "Now, that looks like the raccoon from yesterday," he murmured. "Philip Cross. I wonder where you're going."

The raccoon—Nick was certain he was Cross—continued to saunter back and forth, gradually coming closer to the entrance.

"Clawhauser," radioed Judy, "Suspicious raccoon, possibly Philip Cross, Riverside."

He stopped, now facing into the tunnel. Yes, now they were certain it was him; no random mammal would have stopped there. He kept his arms and paws concealed under his coat as his head twitched ever so slightly.

The two officers curiously watched as he stood there, waiting for him to make a move. "What are you up to?" muttered Judy. She pulled out her phone and began recording the raccoon from behind.

He began to take a step in, but then thought otherwise and stepped back, turning his head to the right. Nick impatiently tapped his paws on the bridge railings. "Any time, now."

But he never entered. It was almost as if he knew something wasn't right. He simply turned and headed away, rejoining the crowd.

Strange. He didn't even try to enter the tunnels. Again, Judy began to doubt over whether or not this raccoon was the one they were looking for. She dismissed that notion right away; his mere interest in the passageway was enough to convince her that this raccoon was the right one.

They decided to move from their spot, after he had a few seconds to try to blend back in with the crowd. At first, it was easy for Nick to keep an eye on him as they weaved their way through the crowd toward the same plaza where Whitaker's chase had led them. Upon reaching it, however, the denser crowd made Cross more difficult for the two officers to track, even as they followed his thick clothing and distinct ringed tail. The officers picked up their pace, trying to catch up to the raccoon, and Judy was able to spot him for a split second before he disappeared behind a group of elephants.

As they traversed through the plaza, they could only catch glimpses of the raccoon through the tiny partings in the crowd. Once they were through the area, they could see him hurrying off down a street, north toward downtown.

Judy began to wonder if he knew they were following him. He hadn't ever checked behind him, as far as she knew, so there was no way he could have seen them. But why didn't he go into the tunnels? If he hadn't known, then he would have gone in and tried to salvage the remaining Night Howlers. Perhaps he did know and had been trying to sneak away from them this whole time.

Cross froze. Something was wrong; if he were trying to lose them, he wouldn't just stop in a place where they could see him. Judy stopped and held out an arm, preventing Nick from getting any closer to him.

A yelp from behind them pierced through the entire crowd, through all the surrounding conversations and the roaring of engines on the nearby roads. Nick and Judy turned around to find a group of mammals in the plaza ducking down and covering their heads, revealing a lion leaning with her paws pressed around the base of a light pole, convulsing erratically before eventually falling onto all fours.

Judy's eyes widened, and she glanced at Nick before putting her phone away and starting back to the plaza, toward the now-savage lion. Nick could only stand there frozen as he watched Judy sprinting back to the crowd, completely disregarding the raccoon they had just been chasing.

By now, several more officers were arriving at the scene, tires screeching as they came to a halt near the plaza. Nick turned around again to face Cross; hopefully, Judy and the other officers could take care of that lioness before she could harm anyone.

Upon seeing him again, Nick gasped and instinctively dove to the side as something went whizzing by his ear. He could barely follow the object as it zipped into the crowd before striking someone in the back.

As he lay on the ground, Nick could barely spot someone out of the corner of his eye hopping along the top of a building. He couldn't distinguish any notable features of the mammal, only that they were medium-sized. Focusing back on Cross, he watched as the raccoon slunk back into an alley, aiming a dart gun toward the crowd. Once he reached a corner, he finally looked directly at the officers and then disappeared behind the buildings.

As he stood back up, Nick thought of continuing the chase, before realizing that Judy was trying to subdue a lion— _a lion!_ —in the middle of the plaza. Sure, he'd seen her stop jaguars before, but all of those occurrences required some sort of distraction for the savage cat.

Then there was the other darted mammal. Perhaps that one might also need some consideration as well. He turned around to find that the second savage was a fully grown hippo. _Of all the things! One of the heaviest mammals!_

It was unusual for Nick to see a non-predator going savage. This hippo wasn't the first prey mammal on record to go savage, although it was the first that Nick had seen. _Compared to a predator, they don't look so threatening._

But that wasn't any reason to regard them as less dangerous. In fact, any large and aggressive mammal was extremely dangerous to handle, regardless of whether their species was classified as predator or prey. Nick wasn't too sure about what he could do to stop the hippo from hurting anyone, since he was so outmatched in terms of size.

 _I just need to buy everyone a few seconds, and then the big guys will get him. No biggie._ Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the savage lion thrashing at several of the bystanders as they attempted to escape, Judy weaving around and searching for a way to distract her. The officers soon arrived, restrained the lioness by the neck, and forced a muzzle on her.

Nick had to leap out of harm's way for a second time, barely avoiding a charging hippo. It drew the hippo away from the heavier part of the aroused crowd, though there were still many mammals around him who were in potential danger. Two of the surrounding predators—a tiger and a wolf—tried to subdue the hippo, but he easily shook them off and resumed charging wildly and mindlessly around the plaza.

Another dart went flying past Nick, straight into the back of the hippo's leg. The surrounding officers all dove on top of him, the heavier of the bunch holding him down as they waited for the tranquilizer to take effect.

"We all okay here?" asked Judy from behind him. By then, the lion's struggle had ceased, as the tranquilizer dosage administered to her was already working.

Nick nodded. "That came out of nowhere," he said. "I saw someone on top of a building just earlier. I don't know if it might have been Knight; they were definitely the right size for a badger. Then again, it could have been anyone. But that's where the first dart came from. Cross fired on the hippo and ran off."

"I didn't think they would have leftover serum after yesterday's attack in Sahara Square. Are we still able to find Cross, or did he get away?"

"Looks like he got away that way," Nick said, pointing.

Judy sighed. "Their Night Howlers, though… the farm!" Without even addressing any of the officers in the area, she started sprinting back across the plaza.

"Hold on!" called Nick as he began chasing after her. "Where are you going?"

"Those are open Night Howlers sitting on that farm. Trying to use them as bait didn't exactly work out as we wanted it. We need to remove them now, or we risk them getting more to use for darting mammals."

Upon reaching the entrance to the tunnels, they found that nothing in the area had changed since they went after Cross—a sign of relief for Judy; she didn't want to consider what might happen if Knight or one of his acquaintances managed to collect the rest of the Night Howlers on the farm.

They sprinted all the way until they reached the farm room. Nick fell to his knees to try to catch his breath while Judy leaned against the doorframe for a short break before approaching the side of the room with the grown Night Howlers.

She reached into one of the soil beds and started digging around the flower, at times even trying to pull the flower straight out of the soil bed.

"Whoa, whoa!" Nick grabbed her arm, stopping her from reaching back into the soil bed. "Isn't that dangerous? Couldn't you go savage?"

"Not by touching it. My dad handles it all the time at home, and he's always been fine," explained Judy. "It can only affect you if it's ingested."

Nick watched as she continued digging around the flower and attempting to pull it out. Soon, the flower came right out, taking a pile of soil with it and creating a small cloud of dirt. She bent the stem and pulled, snapping the stem and separating the flower from its roots. She searched for any container they could use for containing everything, eventually settling with a plastic bin that Whitaker must have left in the farm. There was no need to keep these flowers alive; the quicker they disposed of them, the better.

As she moved on to the next soil bed, Nick followed and continued to stand beside her. After a while, she elbowed him. "You're a fox. You're good at digging. Help me out and speed this up."

He went over to one of the untouched flowers and drew a wide circle around it before beginning to dig. He was still skeptical about the possibility of going savage through mere contact with the flower, but after a bit, it seemed that Judy was right. He pulled a few petals off the flower, but he remained unaffected.

Once all the Night Howlers in the room had been cleared, the dirt clouds had overtaken a good portion of the room. Judy picked up the bin and began to carry it out of the farm, looking to get rid of the flowers at the first opportunity to do so.

"So, we're done dealing with this farm?" asked Nick.

Judy glanced back before she nodded. "For now, that is all. Whitaker is going to have a fun time explaining all this."


	10. X: The Offseason

**Conference finals in the NHL is about to begin. My team's out now, so I'm watching as a neutral fan now.**

* * *

 **X**

 **The Offseason**

As time expired, the stadium erupted into cheers and applause as one of the teams cleared the bench, dropped their gloves and sticks, and rushed toward center ice. One of the players collapsed under sheer disbelief of their monumental achievement.

Guardians 1, Blue Devils 2. Their fourth win in five games to clinch the series and the ZHL championship. Blue and black confetti began raining down from above as the merriment of the crowd continued. Several more mammals, some not wearing skates, also rushed to the ice, while the other team retreated down the tunnel to the visitors' locker room.

A sense of relief washed over Marbury as he watched the Blue Devils crowd the ice from the press box. _We made it!_ His elation was not a result of the tournament's outcome. Rather, it was the result of his ability to keep the league running until the end, even when it's a central factor in what may be Zootopia's biggest crime case of the year.

He turned and searched for the owners of the Blue Devils: two shrew brothers, applauding and cheering from their spots as though they were also crowd members. Upon seeing them, he couldn't help but grin slightly.

That smile didn't last long, however. This offseason was going to be busy as ever; tireless work adjusting the league's operations and policies in accordance with the Night Howler scandal. He wondered what changes might be necessary.

 _Until the Night Howler scandal ends, Judson isn't going to stop pushing to implement his policies. Just one more thing I have to stop._ He didn't believe Pine's proposals, to leave everything unchanged, were right either. A change in the league was necessary, but he just didn't know where to begin. _How am I supposed to bolster player safety without imposing restrictions on anyone?_

He remembered why Pine advocated the way he did. _For the sake of the players. He essentially assumed the role of the ZAPA while the ZAPA was absent. But then that meant he also had to assume that it was what the players wanted…_

Eventually, he decided that the players would have to decide what they wanted. _I'll wait until Friday and see what they have to say._

For now, though, it was time to celebrate the conclusion of another successful season.

Ace did not twitch as he watched the Blue Devils swarming the ice. The view on the screen cut to a wide shot of the stadium, allowing him to see the entire crowd as they celebrated their victory, before the rain of confetti obstructed the camera's view and the live feed cut to another angle of the Guardians leaving their bench for the locker room. _Someday, I'll be out there celebrating just as they are. It could have been this year, if I played better._

But the real work hadn't even begun yet. He knew what was in store for him this offseason. There would be ZAPA meetings over the summer, reevaluation in the middle of June, and rehab sessions possibly starting shortly after.

He checked the calendar on his phone, where he had already planned out as much of the offseason as he could. Felix told him that the first meeting was always on the first Friday after the playoffs ended and that the rest would be scheduled according to what best fit everyone's plans; usually once or twice each week. That gave him two days to prepare. Frankly, he was glad that the series didn't stretch out to any more than five games. Had the Guardians won tonight, the sixth game would have been on Saturday, meaning that there would be no meeting for at least another week.

At least with this result, the meetings would start early. That meant he could speak his mind earlier, and therefore, he could get this burden off him. Everyone must have been wondering how he was doing; it had been six weeks since he was attacked, and no one had heard from him since that night. There were some concerns about his condition after the attack in Sahara Square, but he had chosen not to break his silence on that matter.

"124 days," he muttered. At this rate, he doubted on his chances to be playing by the beginning of the season. Hopefully, he would be along in the rehab process, and perhaps he could be cleared to play at the start of the season if it went better than expected.

 _What will it be like? Who will even be there?_ Perhaps not everyone would be there on Friday; while it was generally suggested around the league that every player attend at least a few of these sessions every summer, he knew of a couple on his team who had never been in years.

Thursday was a blur, just another regular day of seclusion for Ace. A hockey-less day, he grew more eager about the upcoming meeting as the day passed.

Felix called him late on Friday morning, and a few minutes later, he was on his way to pick up Ace. The meeting was at noon, so they decided that they could pick up a quick meal from a nearby fast food joint before arriving.

The hockey branch of the ZAPA was situated in southwestern Tundratown, close to one of the tunnels that led to Downtown Zootopia. The building was just a couple of miles away from Nimm's Arena—a pleasing coincidence that their home stadium was the closest to the host building. Ace wondered how long it would take for those North Stars players to get there; even though they were in Tundratown, their location in the far northeast corner of the district gave them the farthest distance to travel.

They passed through a series of doors to find a wide-open conference room, about as long and as wide as a basketball court. Fourteen large, rectangular tables were organized into two rows of seven. One row for each division, one table for each team, it seemed. At the front of the room was a podium and several microphones, and behind the podium was another row of seats.

Some more mammals filed the room, locating and joining their respective teams. A few were still preparing the room, rolling in another rack of chairs from the storeroom to fill the back two tables. They reached out for some of the players to help, pointing at their racks to help quicken the arrangement.

Observing each table, he found that the Blue Devils' spot was mostly empty, save for a couple of mammals. _Probably still off celebrating_ , he thought, _or dealing with the hangover._

He could name a considerable number of faces around him, but he had only been able to personally know a few of them. Most of the names were of either his teammates or other rookies.

Each one greeted him as they joined the table. A few tried to sneak around to get a view of his leg, while others explicitly asked about it. Ace mostly insisted that his recovery had been smooth so far, and that no one should be concerned.

A rhino approached their table from the front of the room, and Ace tensed up slightly upon seeing his bulky stature. It took a bit to recognize him, since he wasn't a teammate. _Greg Petrov, Legends captain and spokesmammal for the ZAPA._

"Okay! Who on the Royals crew do we have today? I see we've got Hemsky, Green, Hornowitz… ah! Wolfburne!" His mood suddenly brightened upon seeing the wolf. "I was hoping you'd show up. How's everything going?"

Ace shrugged. "Given the circumstances? I'm somewhat okay."

"That's good to hear. It's nice to see you're doing well after what happened. A lot of us have been there before, waiting out injuries." Greg took a seat at the table across from him and turned his chair around, so he was still facing Ace.

"Speaking of which, your buddy Barr and I were thinking that you should address the players today about that night," continued Greg. "We need _your_ voice if we're going to have any say in what changes in the league this summer."

 _What?_ Ace looked up and frowned at the rhino, suddenly alarmed by his proposition. _Damn you, Felix! Telling me all I had to do was talk to our captain!_ "I thought the captains were the ones who always did the speaking at these meetings," he said. "That the players tell their team's captain—so, Frederick Barr, in my case—and then the captain relays it to everyone else."

"Oh, we do. It's normally to prevent clutter and constant switching between speakers. But under special situations such as this one, sometimes we need someone else to do the talking." He winked at Ace. "If you don't want to, we can wait until you're ready, but just know that the league isn't going to wait forever."

"What about Spirit? They're heavily involved in this as well."

"Which is why Rob is also going to speak."

Ace needed a moment to think again of Greg's offer, remembering that Rob Marleau was the captain of Spirit. _Well, if Spirit's also got a word in this, then it can't be so bad. I've already had to deal with being the center of attention for the league for a night._ _What questions can they ask that I haven't already asked myself?_

After a while, he nodded. "I'll do it. But what do I even say?"

"Just your thoughts and what you think the league can do about this situation." Greg smiled and stood up. "We'll be glad to hear from you."

Ace eyed Greg as he left. What was there to tell that they haven't heard already? The course of his recovery so far had been uneventful, and he was sure that everything from the night he was attacked had already been revealed in the news.

"Got to address everyone on your first day here? Ouch," teased Felix. "A bit unlucky, I might add."

"Don't mention it," Ace snapped lightheartedly.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you." Felix laughed. "I've seen captains break down on that podium before, especially after last year's debacle with the first scandal. No one knew what to say; everyone was just frozen in disbelief at the league's decision to close early."

"But I still don't know what to say! I'm sure they at least had something on their minds to speak about."

Felix shrugged. "It's only the first meeting, anyway. You'll likely get more chances."

Several minutes later, all of the present captains from each team gathered at the front of the room. There were thirteen of them today; only the expected team, the Blue Devils, did not have a representative. After a short discussion between them, all of them except for Greg took seats at the front of the room, while Greg picked up the microphone next to the podium.

"Testing, first ZAPA meeting of the offseason. Can we turn this up a little?"

Most of the ongoing conversations in the room came to a halt, while one mammal at the back of the room turned a dial. Greg watched him closely, waiting for a signal from him before speaking again.

"We're all settled in the back? Can you hear fine? Cascades? Cavies?"

A few of the players seated at the back tables gave him a thumbs-up.

"Are introductions necessary, or does everyone know who I am?"

By now, all of the unrelated chatter in the room had ceased. Some of the players shook their heads in response to Greg's question, while others looked around, not knowing what he had just asked.

"That's good." Greg ignored all the confused faces in the crowd. "We'll jump right into it, then. I trust everyone knows what's on the table today, yes?"

Some of the mammals, mostly rookies, were still confused about what was going on, while their older teammates attempted to get them to hold still. Ace tried his best to sit up, grimacing at the discomfort as his leg shifted ever so slightly. _Here we go, then._

"Concerns of the Royals, Spirit, and pretty much everyone else, but mostly Royals and Spirit." The rhino flipped through the cards. "This is about the recent Night Howler scandal that the police are still investigating. So we'll be hearing from Spirit and Wolfburne shortly."

 _Addressing a crowd at my first ever ZAPA meeting. Not quite a normal occurrence._

"So, quick rundown of the league's situation, just for context. It's a bit hectic in the offices because everyone had to deal with this exact same thing last year. Marbury somehow managed to keep the league open for the entire playoffs, while Royals owner Judson has been vocal about shutting down tournament play for safety purposes. For some reason, the offices flipped positions from last year, but of course there's no player input since we were so busy preparing for our postseason games. Everyone still with me?"

Again, a few mammals in the crowd gave a thumbs-up.

"I need a show of paws. Who here wanted the playoffs to actually continue?"

An overwhelming majority of mammals in the room raised a paw or a hoof. The numbers were thinner among the teams that had been eliminated before the incident—no surprise there. Ace's paw also went up, and Greg took notice right away.

"So that settles it. We'll cut to the chase and I'll turn it over to Marleau and Wolfburne. So, you two, can you come up here?"

Ace barely paid any attention to what Greg was saying. He had spent the entire time recalling every little detail about his injury, what led to it, and what happened in the league as a result.

 _What is my attacker's name? Come on! It's been five weeks since the police visited me, and I still don't know that jaguar's name!_

As he started rolling himself toward the podium, he saw someone stand up from behind Greg: the captain of Spirit of the Sahara, Rob Marleau, a brown bear. It was an awkward moment for Ace; he could feel every pair of eyes on him as he gradually approached the front of the room. By the time Ace arrived at to the podium and turned around, Rob was holding the microphone and had already been standing there for nearly half a minute. He was just glad he didn't have to deal with any inclines or steps.

Even after reaching the podium, where Rob and Greg were standing, Ace felt uncomfortable, as his position in a wheelchair made him appear significantly shorter in front of such a crowd. He wished he could have been on crutches—at least then, maybe he could come close to matching their heights, and it would feel less awkward.

"You want to go first?" whispered Rob. "You were the first one involved, after all."

Ace looked up toward Rob. "Sure." He reached for the microphone, and Rob handed it over.

Since he was too low to use the podium, Ace opted to address the players from the front of the room. Everyone could still see him, anyway, as they were all turned to face him.

"Mm. I'm not a great speaker," started Ace. "I'm sure most of us can relate to that."

Some murmurs throughout the crowd. Ace wasn't used to having this many mammals listening to him at once; he had been interviewed many times before, but those were mostly in front of a bunch of cameras and a few reporters; he couldn't see the actual viewers. Here, he could see their faces and their reactions to every word he said.

"Where do I even start with this address?" asked Ace. "I mean, first time leaving my bubble and breaking my silence over the matter, and I'm already talking to crowds. It's stressful, don't you think?"

He received no response from the crowd this time. It seemed most of the mammals believed his question was not to be answered, so they simply stared at Ace and waited for him to continue.

"The night of April 18, 2017. I believe that was exactly when it happened, outside a café not too far from here," said Ace. "Just giving some details about what happened. I don't like to talk about how I felt that night. Partly because, well, the Brawlers, for one. You know, I never congratulated you guys for beating us."

Some of the mammals at the Spirit table snickered, and Ace remembered that the Brawlers had gone on to lose to Spirit in the following round. Suddenly, he wished he could take that comment back—perhaps he was running off-topic—but he had to press on.

"Coach Alex Buck visited me during my hospital stint. He gave me details on what the league executives are going for. I remember he told me he was among the ones who wanted to keep the league open. But he also said our owner wasn't so likeminded."

Some stirring in the crowd; Ace didn't know if the players wanted the league to have shut down, or if they wanted it to continue as it had. He had wanted the playoffs to continue, but he couldn't yet say the same about the others in the room.

"So, what's my concern on this whole matter?" continued Ace. "Obviously, the crime case… the ZPD's still out for them. They caught a guy a few weeks ago, so that's good. Hopefully that stops it outright, but I hear league offices are still super paranoid about everything." He considered last year's shutdown of the league and how quickly that was carried out. "I wasn't here for last year's case," he mentioned. "Theo Judson, I believe, was the one who initiated last year's shutdown. I don't think it's any surprise that he wanted the league closed this year as well."

As he spoke, the players began to seem more troublesome. A few of them glanced over at the Royals' table, while a number of the Royals players seemed to hold disappointed looks on their faces. _Had this been going on for a while?_

"Did _I_ want the league to stay open, even after what happened that night?" Ace paused for a moment. "Well, yes. Yes, I did. I'm not sure about the rest of you, though."

No one spoke, but the attitude throughout the crowd gave him the feeling that they agreed with him. Ace thought about ending it here; he could give the microphone to Rob—undoubtedly a much more experienced speaker—and let him deal with the mess he might have just created. _But I'm not finished yet._

"I can only attribute my injury to my own misfortune," he continued, and then froze.

What more was there for him to say? He searched desperately for any detail he might not have yet shared, but everything he was able to think of was something he either already said or didn't want to talk about.

"I can admit that Theo Judson might be a little impulsive," he sputtered. "Uh… I can see where he's coming from, but it looks like his approach didn't exactly consider what the players wanted, based off how I see you acting now. I'm not entirely sure if his viewpoint lines up with what the rest of you guys want. It's just something to consider."

 _What am I even saying? Is this even about the case anymore?_ Ace glanced back at Greg, giving him a worried look. He noticed his team's captain was also giving him a rather peculiar look. _Maybe I should have just let Frederick speak for me, or let Rob go first._

"I believe that's all I have to say, though. More words as the police case continues, of course, but for now, that's all the detail I can spare." He hurried off, as quickly as he could under the limitations of his injured leg. He nearly forced the microphone into Rob's paw as he left his spot.

Rob stared, dumbfounded, as Ace backed up, signaling for him to begin speaking. "Uh… I guess it's my turn now," said Rob. "So, our crew, Spirit, was targeted on a Saturday morning, early in May…"

Ace decided to retreat to his thoughts again, drowning out Rob's words as they resounded throughout the room. What didn't he tell them?

Maybe he should have talked about the police visit, and their lack of a follow-through. He hadn't heard from them since that questioning session weeks ago, and he was beginning to wonder how the police were handling this case by now.

Perhaps he should have asked if the players agreed with his view, just for assurance. He was sure they were on his side, but he just wanted to be certain about it.

 _I should really plan out my words for next meeting…_


End file.
